


Overwatch: Lost in Time

by Raven6229



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Chronal Disassociation, Chronal Harness, Gen, Slipstream - Freeform, Talon Lena "Tracer" Oxton, chronal accelerator
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-06
Updated: 2018-04-04
Packaged: 2018-09-22 09:00:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 33
Words: 195,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9598958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raven6229/pseuds/Raven6229
Summary: Before she was the face of Overwatch, Tracer was Lena Oxton, the pilot trapped by Chronal Disassociation. After her harness is broken and stolen, Lena must face the person she fears the most: Herself. Demons come back to haunt her that McCree and Genji thought were long gone, and struggles hidden under a smile finally come to light, clearest of all to D.va. Everything Tracer knows unravels, and Lena Oxton might vanish forever, just when the world needs her most. (On temporary hiatus)





	1. Lena

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [thanks, dad. love, hana](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7328341) by [Snowsheba](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snowsheba/pseuds/Snowsheba). 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Greetings, mortals! I see you have misclicked onto my story! Don't leave so soon, though! I promise I'm not that bad at writing! Alright, tacky intros out of the way, I appreciate your click, and hope you enjoy my story! Later in the story you will begin to see some blatant inspiration from Thanks, Dad: Love Hana, pretty much my favorite Overwatch fanfiction ever.
> 
> Regardless, I appreciate the chance you are giving me to entertain you! Enjoy!

**Lost in Time**

**Part 1: Lost**

 “ _Adieu, chérie_.” The taunt echoed in Tracer’s head as the blue-skinned assassin below her thrust Tracer off her. Her grappling hook grew taut, slamming Tracer into the side of an apartment building with a resounding crash. The next thing Tracer knew, she was on the floor of a lower down, neighboring apartment building. Tracer heard the whir of a ship as the assassin made her escape.  
   Tracer lay dazed on the cold, stone surface of the apartment building’s roof. Pain blossomed through her chest and down her spine. Her arms felt heavy, and her legs refused to move. It was the Talon sniper, the one who went by Widowmaker; that had done this. She could only listen in a stunned silence at the chaos below her.  
          Had she not teleported, this wouldn’t have happened. She wouldn’t have even died, if that was even possible for her to die completely, that is. It had all happened so fast. One moment, she was fighting Widowmaker on the rooftops of the big apartments and business buildings of King’s Row. The next moment, Tracer, or more accurately, her chronal accelerator, stood between a bullet and the voice of peace between the humans and Omnics. And Tracer chose herself. Now Mondatta was dead.  
Omnics weren’t like normal robots. They were alive. Anything alive can die, even herself if she has her chronal harness. For Omnics, it was a matter of a complete hard drive failure: no fixing it. Mondatta was dead, and it was all Tracer’s fault. Some hero she was. She couldn’t find it in herself to take a bullet that wouldn’t even kill her for him. Pathetic. She was no hero.  
She struggled to move. Slowly, she forced herself onto her hands and knees. The large clock tower cast its deceitfully cheery yellow over the dark cobblestone streets, wet with recent rain. Tracer sat up and shuffled over to the wall into which the assassin had smashed Tracer. There was a significant dent in the building from where her chronal accelerator had collided with it.  
She delicately felt her chest. She had probably broken some ribs. Her head was pounding, and her stomach was churning from being kicked so hard off the building. What worried her most was her Chronal Accelerator. The lightweight device she had grown so used to was flickering on and off rapidly, with blue sparks threatening to shock her. The metal was bent and scratched, with an intermittent buzzing noise that shouldn’t be there drowning out the sounds of the chaos below. It had not been damaged, had it?  
Terror laced Lena Oxton’s very being. It couldn’t be broken! It just couldn’t! If it were, she’d be lost in time again! Her Chronal Disassociation would cause her to lose her very body again!  
Tracer took a few deep, calming breaths; she was a soldier. She’s dealt with much worse on the battlefield. She needed to get it to Winston. He was the only one who could fix it. There was one problem with that, though. He was at the Watchpoint Gibraltar, and that was across the ocean, below Spain. How would she get the accelerator to him? She swore she would only use the tracker in emergencies.  
Tracer heard footsteps in the stairwell next to the roof on which she stood. It must have been Mondatta’s bodyguards! Tracer attempted to stand up and blink. The most she could achieve was a few sputtering moments of time slowing around her before she was thrust awkwardly back into her normal speed, and she was still unable to move from her sitting position.  
If they found her, they'd arrest her. Even worse than that, though, was that they’d take off her chronal accelerator when they searched her. She had to do it. She quickly lifted it slightly off her chest, sticking her pinkie fingernail into a tiny hole, concealed behind a small metal slab. The tracker clicked on with a loud beep. Winston would know she needed help. He had started reassembling Overwatch, but only had their general locations. Now, anyone who had access to the Overwatch channel could track the exact location of her chronal accelerator. Both friends and foes. She had to risk it. It had been roughly a day since Winston made the recall to Watchpoint Gibraltar. Hopefully, he would be watching his monitors and see.  
She hoped she made the right choice. The door to the roof burst open, and the guards dressed in all black stared at her in awed horror for a short moment.  
“She got away,” Tracer grit her teeth through the pain. “She was a mercenary sent to kill Mondatta. I couldn’t stop her. I’m sorry.” One of the guards regarded her stonily.  
“You’re Tracer, the time wielding Overwatch agent, are you not?” he asked sternly, his emotions not visible.  
“The former Overwatch agent, what with everyone forcing us to disband,” she corrected with distaste, setting her head up against the wall and staring at the gloomy sky above. “Look, do whatever you want to me. Just please don’t take off my Chronal Accelerator. I’m begging you.”  
“I’m afraid we cannot risk that, Ms. Tracer.” Did these men actually think that was her name or had they come to associate that name with her more than her actual one? Regardless, all Overwatch activity was illegal, and they would arrest her for it. She knew that was a risk the second she walked outside as Tracer.  
Out of everyone, though, a select few could not drop their identities as former Overwatch agents. That included Winston, a cybernetic ninja from the Shimada clan back in Japan among a few others. One of those was Tracer.  
No matter what, she would always be Tracer. She couldn’t stop being Tracer, thanks to her condition. That meant she had to be careful in public. She was usually safe in crowded areas, being hidden by the hustle and bustle. She knew it was a risk to wear her special uniform today, yet she had been looking forward to seeing Mondatta, and she felt she needed to honour that which she fought so hard to achieve. Now it cost her, because as long as she had her chronal accelerator, she would be Tracer.  
“Look,” Tracer began. “If you keep this thing on me, we both win. Don’t you think I’d be fleeing if it was working? It’s barely functional, but I need it.”  
“I find that unlikely.” The man took steps towards her. Tracer’s eyes widened. “I’m sorry, but I must confiscate that. You are officially under arrest for engaging in illegal Overwatch activity.  
“No! Please! Don’t take it! I’ll disappear if you do! I’ll physically disappear! Please, don’t!” Despite her struggles, the same man that had been speaking to her quickly picked up her pistols that lay nearby, handing them to one of his peers.  
Tracer shied away, quickly forcing herself off the ground in an attempt to flee. Quickly, she turned and ran. It was a sporadic run, with time lurching around her as she tried to blink. She barely made it halfway across the roof.  
All at once, her chronal accelerator let out a horrendous screech from the strain. Time returned to normal. Tracer could feel herself slipping. She was becoming Lena again. She collapsed onto the cement, gripping her accelerator in her arms, in a desperate attempt to hold onto her anchor.  
One of the guards walked up to her and grabbed her by the wrist, pulling her up and forcing her to release her grip on her device. He grabbed one of the metal clasps, unlocked it, and in one painful moment, he tore it off.  
There was a pain. A terrible pain that jolted her entire being for several long seconds. It was as though some unseen force was ripping her in two: a feeling she hadn't missed. She let out a scream of agony as the man passed it to another, leaving her out of its radius of effect. Then she stopped hurting, then she fell. The guard looked shocked, the hand he used to grip her still coiled in a fist. Lena landed on the roof in a painless, soundless heap. She looked up, tears forming in her eyes, to see the merciless face of the guard, who was attempting to imprison Lena, thinking she somehow blinked out of his grasp.  
Tracer’s wounds didn’t hurt. She couldn’t feel the roof below her. She couldn’t feel the guard attempting to grab her again. She felt nothing. She was empty: a ghost. She was back to being Lena.  
Quiet, unheard sobs racked her chest as she curled into a ball. The only thing she could feel was slight cold where her legs were touching her arms. She needed as much feeling as possible. Then her vision slowly faded, despite her eyes being open, and the noise in the background disappeared.  
Then Lena Oxton blinked out of time.

…  
     
   He made the recall a day ago, and he already saw results. He received feedback that many of the former agents were already giving feedback, stating that they’d be coming as soon as they could. Winston leaned back and sighed, having just finished his recall video, sending it to every former Overwatch agent he could.  
   He glanced around the messy office. Below his small room on the second floor with his computers, peanut butter jars littered the ground, along with various trinkets with which he has been working. He rolled his eyes and swung down his tire swing to the large pile. He quickly gathered the empty jars into a bag, which he would burn later.  
   The room was still disastrous, but cleaning up the jars had made a difference. Winston passed by the table full of trinkets and stared idly at the orange holographic map on one of the white walls. Several spots had small pinpricks of blue. It was his family. They’d all be together again. Dr. Angela, who used the field name “Mercy,” had sent a message saying she would arrive in a matter of hours, bringing as many supplies as she could, along with someone if she managed to find her.  
   He heard a beep from his monitor, signaling something had changed, or he had received a message. “Athena,” he began, activating his custom-made AI program. “Did we receive a new message from someone?”  
   “No, Winston,” her smooth, robotic voice began. “Tracer has just activated her tracker. Her exact location is now visible.” Winston looked startled.  
   “Where is she?” Winston asked. Their location trackers were incredibly accurate. He should be able to see her exact location.  
   “Calculating…” Athena spent a few seconds pinpointing the location. Why would Tracer turn it on? She knew that Talon could hack into it and discover her whereabouts quickly with such precise coordinates given.  
   “Location found. Tracer is currently in a high-security lockup in King’s Row, England.” Winston let out a quick gasp, quickly swinging up to the computers. Several deft key clicks later, a map popped up on the screen, revealing a flashing circle in prison used to keep dangerous criminals and their weapons.  
   “Athena, Check the news outlets in London to see if there has been anything with which Tracer was involved,” Winston requested quickly.  
Athena replied instantly. “Yes, sir. Checking for recent news involving Tracer… Information found.” A website popped up on the computer revealing a news headline.  
“Mondatta was assassinated?” Winston asked in surprise. “Oh no. Where was Tracer when this happened?” Athena pulled up a video clip. It showed the briefest glimpse of two people jumping over two buildings in front of a clock tower, haphazardly caught on a phone camera. One showed the blue telltale blink of Tracer’s chronal accelerator. A few seconds later, she was visible again, seeming to jump backward halfway across the gap, then lurch forward again. It was evident she had rewound time, meaning something had attacked her. Several seconds later, there was an explosion, then the phone camera was whipped around to reveal Mondatta collapsed on the ground.  
“Athena, zoom in on the first figure in the video.”  
“Right away, sir.” A second later, the blurry video was zoomed in on the first figure as they jumped across the gap. It was blurry and hard to make out.  
“Run comparisons with the known Talon agents.”  
Another tab on the computer opened and faces flashed across the screen faster than Winston could keep track.  
“Match found to be ‘Widowmaker,’ Talon’s most efficient assassin,” Athena droned on. A blurry picture of her popped onto the screen. Her skin was blue, and she was wearing a jumpsuit, with a helmet that had several red cameras on it. Winston could swear she looked familiar, though…  
That wasn’t important right now. It seemed as though Widowmaker had gotten away, and They captured Tracer in her stead. “Athena, is Tracer mentioned in the article?”  
“No, sir,” she replied in monotone. “Aside from the video, there is no mention of Tracer in this article. Speculations have reached online blogs, though.”  
“Show me one,” Winston demanded.  
“There are two most common reactions. Many people are enraged an Overwatch agent would show themselves again, while some are pleased that the heroes have yet to abandon them.”  
“And she may have been captured. If that were the case, would it not be put in the headlines?” Winston mused aloud.  
“Either they captured her and are trying to avoid protest by the few Overwatch supporters, they wanted to keep the presence of the Overwatch agents under wraps, or they didn’t capture her.”  
Winston panicked for a moment. “Winston, your heart rate is drastically increased,” Athena unhelpfully informed.  
“I know, but if nobody captured Tracer, that means her chronal accelerator is in the lockup, and not being worn by her, meaning finding her will be nearly impossible. We’ll have to take our chances on her being in prison, and if it turns out she isn’t, then we’ll have to do everything in our power to find her and return her chronal accelerator to her.”  
“I suggest awaiting the arrival of Mercy, so you will have additional help in rescuing her, as you lack the ability to be subtle.”  
“I am aware. Athena, monitor as many websites regarding Mondatta as possible to see if there is any sign of Tracer.”  
“Of course. I will also continue to follow the tracking systems, as well as search for any incoming messages by former agents.”  
“Thank you, Athena,” Winston expressed distractedly, climbing down to his work table. He would need gear to save Tracer, though he would have to take a back seat and let someone capable of subtle methods assist him. He began by repairing some of the long since broken ear pieces he had kept in a small box should he need them. They were too valuable to throw out, even if they sustained damage, due to their incredible range and secure channel. He could only hope Tracer had her chronal harness.  
…  
   Lena couldn’t tell if her eyes were open or closed. She couldn’t feel her limbs, and it was complete and utter silence. She couldn’t speak, but she could think, sadly. She wished with all her heart that she couldn’t think. It was painful, an endless void of repeated thoughts.  
   She was lost in time once more. It was perpetual darkness, with no light in sight. It was nothing. Everything was nothing unless she was dreaming. The dreams were often terrible. The nothingness was terrible. Everything was terrible in her cruel world she went to without her harness.  
   She dreamt when she wasn’t conscious. Sometimes she was self-aware, at times she wasn’t. Sometimes the dreams were about herself; sometimes they were about some different soul in a different era. She never had control. She never had limbs to call her own or a voice with which to call out. She was alone, isolated, and silent when in the very essence of time itself.  
   Lena just existed. For hours. For days. For months. Maybe years. She couldn’t tell. Every second was endless. She wished for nothing more than to be back in Watchpoint Gibraltar, with her chronal accelerator and Winston, her best friend. She wanted to be back with Angela, with Genji, with Jesse, with every other member, laughing and fighting at the base. She wanted to be with her team. With her friends. With her family. Not this horrible, lonely, world. She couldn’t even hum a tune to break the deafening silence. She had no voice. When she reappeared in the present, how would she even get to Gibraltar? Would it be a better idea to get her accelerator first, or find a way to message Winston?  
   She felt herself slipping further, like slowly sinking into a hole. Terror gripped her heart. What would she experience this time? Would she be conscious? All at once, there was a blinding light.  
…  
   _Tracer was standing in a runway owned by Overwatch. Trees marked the beginning of a forest in the distance, along with a central control room painted a dull gray with the Overwatch logo painted carefully on every side of it in dark gray and orange color. One-way orange glass rounded each side, with a lighting beacon at the top, covered by a transparent glass dome._  
_A blue and yellow jet stood in front of Tracer, lean and aerodynamic. The paint coat was fresh, and the jet had not a scratch on it. Tracer herself was wearing a black and blue suit, covered in protective padding. An orange vest lay over that, with a white and orange lightning bolt trailing down the left half of her body. She had brown gloves and boots as well. They were soft and easy to wear, helping her be comfortable during the test flight._  
_She bounced up and down nervously yet eagerly as one of the engineers told her everything she needed to know about the jet. She listened carefully, despite already knowing everything the person was droning on about._  
_Several minutes later, the engineer left Tracer to head to the control room, and Winston could be seen trotting over to her._  
_“Cheers, Winston!” she greeted with pep. “Is something wrong?”_  
_“Lena, are you sure about this?” he nervously asked, his large gorilla hands rubbing the ground nervously._  
_“Winston! Come on, love! It’s Tracer, now!” she corrected him, bouncing up and down with jittery excitement, absentmindedly watching a squirrel that had found its way onto the runway, before scampering back to the forest._  
_“I’m serious, Lena! I don’t want you getting hurt!”_  
_“Come on, Winston! I’m one of the best out there! I’ll be fine!” she assured, gazing eagerly at the jet._  
_“I believe it,” he admitted worriedly. “But this ship is brand new, never having been tested. There are so many unknown factors. The teleportation matrix inside of it is very unreliable until we have solid data on how it reacts, but by that point, something bad could have happened.”_  
_“Winston! You worry too much!” Tracer scolded with a giggle. “You have nothing to worry about!”_  
_“Alright, Tracer. Just be careful.”_  
_“You got it!”_  
_A minute later, she heard Winston coming through the comm in her ear. “Okay, Le- I mean Tracer. You’re cleared to get in the Slipstream.”_  
_Tracer let out a whoop, using a provided unfolding staircase to reach the ships level and unlock the small door, deftly crawling inside without any trace (haha, get it?) of a struggle._  
_The seat was a pale blue, and incredibly comfortable to sit in it. A rainbow of different buttons and switches covered the entire wall, all of their purposes Lena knew by heart. Once she received the word, she fired up the engine, listening to their steady, melodic buzz. She pressed the ignition, and the jet started rolling down the runway._  
_Adrenaline pumping, Tracer pressed down on the controls as the ship began its ascent. She let out a hearty laugh as the ground dropped away. This ship was fast, but that was what everyone had expected._  
_“Okay, Tracer. Take it easy at first. Fly it around for some time before trying to activate the translocator,” Winston commanded, his voice steady._  
_“Aww, rubbish! You’re no fun!” Tracer joked as she tested the Slipstream’s essential functions. So far it performed as a typical dogfighting jet: the kind Tracer was best at flying. Lena flew, performing various stunts and tricks with the ship, watching the beautiful forest landscape below. There was no city for miles around this remote facility. It was an endless stretch of lush, green trees._  
_“Tracer, you’re clear to fire up the translocator,” Winston admitted after roughly half an hour, the nervousness returning to his voice._  
_“You got it!” She grinned, pressing one of the buttons on her handle. A high-pitched sound began to drone on in the background as the ship picked up speed, preparing to teleport. Lena laughed in exhilaration as she flew the ship. If all went well, she should teleport to the another facility on the other side of the extensive forest._  
_Suddenly, a droning alarm began to blare, lights flashing red. “Winston? What's wrong?” Tracer demanded as the Slipstream continued to speed up._  
_“Lena! Turn the ship around now! Get back here!”_  
_With a jolt of the control stick, the ship was flying back towards the first base. “I can’t stop it! What’s wrong?” Lena cried, doing everything in her power to cut the translocator, but unable to._  
_“The teleportation matrix is malfunctioning! Lena! You have to bring the ship in for landing now! Hurry! The whole ship will blow if you don’t!”_  
_“Roger! I’ll- AAAAAAAAAAAAGH! Lena let out an agonized scream, losing control of the ship. Electricity sparked straight through the rubber suit as though it were metal. It was painful. She felt like she was being shredded and ripped apart. It was like a million bullets piercing her body._  
_“LENA? LENA!” she heard Winston call, but the sound was distant. The shocking continued for several seconds, before subsiding. She was in no pain after that. In a panic, she tried to grasp the controls, but for some reason, she was unable to hold onto them. Lena cried out again._  
_“Winston! I can’t grab the controls!” Then more shocking came. She screeched again. It was a ghostly wail that drowned out all the alarms and Winston’s voice. She slumped in the chair, gasping heavily as the pain subsided as suddenly as it came. She still couldn’t grasp the controls, and the ship was careening out of control._  
_The forest came up to meet her. “LENA!” she heard Winston cry one last time before the trees and plane met. There was a sea of fire; then Lena was claimed by darkness._


	2. Past

Lost in Time: Chapter 2

Past

   Lena opened her eyes, slowly, shivering even though she could not feel cold. Why? Of all the places, why did she have to go back there? To that time? To that position? Did Time itself hate her that badly, that she should relive that which stole her humanity? Why?

    She shook her head, sitting up while thinking to herself. “I am Tracer. I am not Lena. I am Tracer, the Overwatch agent that always smiles. I have to be that. Come on, Lena. You can do it. Just smile.” After thinking like that for several seconds, she looked around, forcing a weak grin onto her face.

    It was daytime, though the skies were overcast, with a light drizzle Lena couldn’t feel tickling the ground. She held out her hand. It was like a transparent hologram flickering unreliably as the Overwatch agent watched the rain pass through it. She smiled more, curling her hand into a fist. He skin was cold to the touch, as well as being the only thing she could maintain contact with, other than the ground.

    Lena could physically touch the ground thanks to its density, keeping her from phasing through it, but she still couldn’t feel it. Since the roof was not very thick, it was as though she was walking on gelatin. Lena's legs lurched through the ceiling unsteadily as she attempted to get up and look around. She was in the exact location from before. How long had she been gone? A few hours? Days? Weeks?

    Given the feverish work of the police force below her, she guessed it couldn’t be more than a day or two. Should she bother trying to sneak past them, or should she save what precious little time she had? Deciding her time was more valuable, she jumped straight off the building. She landed silently and without pain.

    Her mind was made up. She needed to get to Watchpoint: Gibraltar. Her best bet would be to take a boat, maybe stow away on one, though she ran the risk of fading, waking up in the middle of the ocean with the vessel long gone, and having to swim the rest of the way as a result. She didn’t tire, but it would slow her progress if that were to happen.

    Thankfully, Tracer knew the general direction to the coast, where she would have to go from there. Who knew? Maybe someone would document the “ghost” and Winston would see.

    She began to walk, right past the masses of officers. They stared at the former Overwatch agent, mouths agape.

    Lena said nothing, merely smiling and waving as she passed by them. Several of the men only stared at her incredulously. Only one of them tried to confront her. He was dressed nicer than the rest and spoke with an authority that suggested he was the boss. “Are you Tracer?” he asked in awe. “The Overwatch agent that can wield time?” Lena nodded quietly, still smiling. “And I take it you have a reason for why you are quite literally flickering like a flashlight low on batteries?”

    Again, Lena nodded. She smiled, waved to him, and continued walking. He seemed to signal the rest of the officers and followed after her. “I’m supposed to arrest you, you know. I can’t help but notice you don’t have the device with which all the propaganda depicts you. You were a pilot before that, yes?”

    Lena nodded once more.

    The officer looked quizzical and continued asking her questions as she nonchalantly continued her walking as though nothing were wrong.

    “I also can’t help but notice your footsteps aren’t making any sounds.”

    Lena kept her smile, but it weakened, and it became a smile of a dull sadness. The officer noticed this.

    “A drawback, I’m guessing? The ability to wield time always seemed to be far too good to be true.”

    She would keep smiling. She would keep smiling.

    “Look, I don’t know why you’re a literal ghost, but I’m not stupid. Is it some disability? Maybe an injury? It seems like it.”

    Lena felt freezing tears form in her eyes. She held her weak smile.

    “And yet, you are still smiling. It’s forced as heck, sure. Honestly, that rubbish about Overwatch being criminals is a load of crock. You know this, I’m sure. No matter what, though, there are a few people, even if it’s only a few, that know this. You’re walking with a purpose, meaning you must have somewhere to be. Somewhere to regain the sound of footsteps?”

    Lena nodded slowly, turning to look at the man for the first time. He looked surprised.

    “Even now, when I’m interrogating you like this, and tears are streaming down your face, and your body is disappearing, you’re smiling. I can’t tell you how refreshing that is in this day and age. I won’t arrest you. Heck, I doubt I could if I wanted to. Just do me a favor, ‘kay?”

    Lena nodded again. He spoke up.

    “Don’t give up on this world. We may be broken, and ninety-five percent of the population is against you, but the people don’t know what they’re doing. The world is on the cusp of self-destruction. Whether they like it or not, they need someone who knows how to reach peace rather than fight to a bitter end. And even if almost everybody is against it, there will always be us five-percent supporting you.”

    Lena only stared, the tears now freely falling down her face. Her smile widened and became a genuine one. She nodded one final time. The officer smiled back.

    “Heh. You’re looking better. I’ll tell the boys I failed to catch you. Good luck with fixing this mess of a world. “

    Tracer gestured to him, waiting for him to supply his name.

    “Nah, you don’t need my name. I’m just an officer doing his job. Good luck out there, kid. I don’t know what’s going on, but I’ll do whatever I can.” The officer turned and left, without looking back.

    Lena stood in awe as the rain phased through her and grew heavier. The man reminded her of Jack Morrison, one of the leaders of Overwatch, killed in an explosion. The mentality of the “common soldier” was so similar.

    It was men like him that kept Lena from giving up in the many battles she’s been in, and in the many lives she’s had to claim. She did it because people like this gave her a reason to save everybody. She turned and continued down the cobblestone sidewalks walking with a calm smile on her face. She had a few hours, maybe a day or two. She needed to cover as much distance as she could.

…

    “Winston, two people have entered the parameters,” Athena announced, drawing Winston out of his mindless work.

    “Who are they?” he asked, despite having an idea.

    Athena pulled up a security camera, revealing two people cautiously walking side-by-side down the path to the building Winston occupied. One of them was wearing a white angelic suit, with golden wings of light blossoming from her back, while the other was dressed in a blue armor suit, with a helmet that made her resemble that of a blue bird with a yellow beak. They had weapons strapped to their backs, one of them was a bulky rocket launcher, and the other a skinny, lightweight staff.

    “One found to be Dr. Angela Ziegler. The other subject is unidentified,” Athena explained unhelpfully.

    “Let them in,” Winston ordered, listening to the robotic sounds of the front doors opening. Footsteps echoed in the lab area, and the doors shut.

    “Winston? Is that you?” Angela, also known as Mercy, greeted cheerily in her Swiss accent, walking up the stairs with her companion following behind in awe. Winston looked up from his computer and smiled.

    “Angela! It’s been too long!” Winston greeted happily, climbing down and giving her a hearty pat on the back, which almost knocked her over. She laughed heartily, before gathering herself.

“Let me introduce you, in case you do not remember her,” she pointed to the woman standing behind her, who was doing their best to remain stoic despite obvious excitement. “This is Fareeha Amari, also known as Pharah; she is the child of the deceased sniper from Blackwatch, Ana.”

    “A pleasure to meet you,” Winston politely greeted, glancing around nervously. “Excuse the mess. I’ve been preoccupied as of late.”

    “Please, it is no trouble.” Pharah gave a repressed smile. “Angela found me at my station near the Temple of Anubis, telling me Overwatch was getting back together. I couldn’t pass down something like that.”

    Winston laughed. “Unfortunately, I only issued the recall a short while ago, so not many agents have gotten back to me yet. We’ll be shorthanded and working outside the law. Are you sure you want to do that?”

    “I wouldn’t have it any other way. Anything to save this world.”

    “I agree completely. First, we should prioritize finding any agents we can. This is where I’ll need help.”

    Pharah’s voice raised and lightened, giddy with eagerness she was hiding surprisingly well. “Very well. I take it you have someone in mind?”

    “Yes, though they’ll be hard to find, we need to prioritize her; otherwise she’ll meet a fate worse than death.”

    Mercy cut in. “Worse than death, you say?”

    Winston nodded. “Athena, show all known information on Lena Oxton.”

    Seconds later, articles spread across the computer screens. Several included pictures and information on Tracer, while some were the recent articles about Mondatta.

    “Tracer.” Pharah’s eyes shone with admiration. “So young, yet so talented.”

    “Are you two aware of Mondatta’s recent assassination?” Winston asked. They both nodded solemnly.

    “Well, she was seen there, only briefly. She turned on her tracker, which is now in a lockup for dangerous criminals.”

    “So you wish for us to rescue her?” Mercy guessed, running her hand down her holster with her pistol.

    “Except there’s a wrinkle. Tracer's chronal accelerator is what has the tracker. I can’t tell whether or not she has it on.”

    “Does she not have other means of communication?” Pharah asked worriedly.

    “None she can use. Without her device, she’s left to fade in and out of existence itself. She doesn’t age, and she can’t touch anything. She can barely even communicate.”

    Mercy’s eyes melted into that of pity. “In other words, we have to retrieve her chronal accelerator, but we run the risk of her being nowhere near it.” Winston nodded.

    “I’ve set Athena to monitor all public websites that have mentioned Tracer, but I’d assume she’d make her way back to here, though I don’t know how, given her current state along with being across the ocean. The best we can do is retrieve her harness before something bad happens to it. Our supplies are cut off, so it’d be beyond difficult to replace it.”

    Pharah spoke this time. “We break into the prison, retrieve either he or the device, then leave. Seems easy enough. We’ll have to be careful, though.”

    Winston started typing on the computer, mindlessly checking for any messages or information Athena might have missed. “Exactly. I’ll stay here and monitor the base along with guiding you. Would you two be willing to go there yourselves?”

    “Anything for poor little Lena,” Mercy agreed.

    “This is better than I hoped,” Pharah smiled, showing off her rocket blaster. “This thing isn’t very subtle. Do you have any better weapons I may use?”

    Winston nodded. “Follow me.” He made his way down the stairs, reaching for his refurbished gun he received when Talon raided his base. “This is my Tesla Cannon. It’s bright but quiet, and similar in bulk to your rocket launcher.” Pharah nodded, and took the weapon graciously, holding it as though it were a piece of treasure.

    Winston looked outside. The sun was setting. “Come on, now. I cleaned the dormitory rooms recently. Get some sleep, and we’ll get a ship to London tomorrow. We should be there by sunset by that schedule. They both nodded. “I don’t have much in the way of a meal, mostly just produce and vegetables from a makeshift garden.”

    Mercy smiled. “You never struck me as the gardening type, Winston.”

    “A gorilla needs a way to feed himself.”

    Mercy chuckled. “True.”

    …

    The sun was setting. Lena had made good time. She should reach the coast soon. Lena still didn’t know what she would do then, but it was a good start. She walked out in the open, but for a person flickering and transparent, she attracted surprisingly little attention. That was all right. The rain was finally letting up when darkness crept into her vision. Her eyes widened.

    She ran past the many buildings, some of which had been ravaged by the Omnic Crisis. This city was one of the first places that war broke out. Some people remained, but not many. She ran through the rubble of a collapsed apartment building, where she wouldn’t attract much attention.

    She wished and willed with all her might that she’d stay in the present. Tears fell her face as her vision faded, and for the first time in hours, she dropped the smile. Sobs racked her chest as she blinked back into the void of time itself.

    …

    Nothingness. Lena was back in the empty void of nothing as misery consumed her. Every second was an eternity. It stretched out indefinitely. She was back in the dull, miserable darkness. She knew she would be coming back here, so why was it a big deal?

    Maybe it was the sheer loneliness: the feeling that she would never have a friend to support her again. She remembered the first time she was here, after the crash. She thought she was dead: that she would be alone forever. She had the odd dreams, which she didn’t know what to make of, but she felt so alone, abandoned, and forgotten in her world where nothing existed except for her. It was wretched.

    After an eternity, she felt herself being pulled into another dream. She would’ve sighed. What did her condition have in store for her this time?

_She was conscious this time, fully aware she was not herself, and this was not the present. It was evident since she was Winston this time. She heard all his thoughts, felt what he did, and moved as he did._

_**Three months…** Lena heard Winston think. **It’s been three months, and I still don’t know what happened. Why? What caused the jet to crash? What did I do wrong? Could I have saved Lena? It’s my fault! I should’ve run the test dummy more often!**_

_Lena wished with all her might that she could call out to him and offer some words of reassurance as his sorrow and self-hatred consumed her whole. They were on the runway where Lena had taken off, right in front of the scorched forest, except it was all burnt to a crisp for miles. No signs of the ship could be seen as Winston made his way through the woods that had once been so beautiful._

_**The forest, Lena, the jet, I could’ve saved them all! Stupid! Some scientist I am.**_

_No! Winston! No! That’s not it! Tracer tried so hard to will this message to him, but couldn’t. She was being pulled along for the ride, like a puppet, not in control of her body. Winston walked to the heart of the crash, where the land was the most devastated. Any remnants of the ship were scorched, twisted, and unusable as even scraps._

_Lena saw something out of the corner of Winston’s eye. No! Why did she have to be here, at this moment, of all moments? She didn’t need to relive this either! But it was indisputable. Winston’s head whipped around. Splayed out on the ground, twenty feet away, was Tracer, stirring as though waking up from a nap. Her clothes were torn and scorched, but there she was._

_She stood up and looked around as Winston’s thoughts bombarded Lena. **Lena! But she died! No! How? Lena can’t be… What? How is this possible? The ship burnt up, and she wasn’t here when the fire was out! How is she here? This can’t be! She’s flickering? Transparent? I’m seeing things! How can this be?** His thoughts continued _ spiraling _in the same circle as Tracer stood up slowly, visibly shaking. She looked around, incredulous at the scorched land. She turned around, and her eyes met Winston. Her face lit up with a raw joy, her smile reaching from ear to ear. Her eyes were squinted as though she were readjusting to the sunlight._

_She mouthed something, her jaw agape._

_“L-Lena!” Winston shouted in joy, running to embrace her. Tracer did the same. Lena wished she could close her eyes. The moment that still haunted her memory as a lightning bolt striking her from the blue came, and she watched in horror as Winston’s excitement died instantly._

_Tracer was not in front of Winston. He was confused for an instant, before turning around. Tracer stood there, frozen in place, facing away. She whipped her head around, her eyes wide and afraid, with trails of tears streaming down her face **. She’s… flickering. Is she not here? Is this real? She went through me! Lena? What’s going on? What happened to you? How? She’s scared! She’s so scared! What can I do? How can I help? She’s terrified! What did this to her? Did I? Is this my fault? Did I do this to Lena?**_

_Lena saw just how pathetic she looked at that moment. Tracer’s pupils were small, scared, and shattered as though she had already died. Her body was translucent, and Tracer noticed this. Her mouth flew open, as though she was shouting, but no sound came. She quickly covered her mouth with her see-through hands._

_In a panic, she dived towards Winston again. Once more, she phased right through him, appearing on the other side. There was a piece of metal at her foot. Tracer bent down to pick it up. It went right through her hand, not moving an inch._

_“L-Lena? What happened to you?” Winston’s voice broke for an instant._

_Tracer shivered. She collapsed, desperately trying to grab the piece of scrap while Winston watched helplessly. Tracer curled into a ball, grasping her legs and tucking her head down. Silent sobs shook her whole body as grief consumed Winston. **My fault. My fault. My fault.** **I need to help.** The chant echoed through Winston’s head as Lena felt tears run down his cheeks._

_“Lena…” Winston began, not knowing what to say. She curled tighter into a ball. “Come on, let’s get you to headquarters.” Tracer continued crying, as Lena was helpless to do anything but watch her worst memory unfold before her._

_It was a full five minutes before Tracer moved. Slowly, she uncurled her body, sitting up and looking up to Winston, tears soaking her cheeks. Her eyes were wide and terrified. She said something, though no sound came out, it was clear what she meant._

_“Help me.”_

_**I did this. I did this. I did this. I’ll fix it! I can fix this!** “Lena, come on. We’ll see what we can do back at the nearest HQ. I’ll fix this!” Winston reassured as hot tears stung his eyes. He reached down to try and help her _ up, _but hesitated. **I can’t help her. Would reaching for her just make her more upset? She can’t touch me. What should I do?**_

 _Tracer stood up slowly, her legs shaking. She smiled in a pathetic attempt to lighten the mood. The two began the walk back in a_ somber _silence to the runway, where Winston would call for a ride for his friend._

_**I did this. I’m so sorry, Lena. I need to make this better. I’ll study the translocation. I’ll figure out what did this! I’ll fix whatever is wrong, no matter what it takes! I need to help, I need to help, I need to help. I’m sorry that I did this to you. If only I had run the tests more. My fault. My fault. My fault.**_

_Lena fell back into_ darkness _with Winston’s woeful thoughts looping in her mind._

 


	3. Slipstream

Chapter 3: Slipstream

 

...

"Pharah, Mercy, are you two at the objective?" Winston asked through the com device attached to Angela's ear. The London sky was dark and overcast, the gleaming towers shining like a beacon. Mercy's wings on her suit glowed brightly, deactivating as the two softly landed on the roof of the massive building. They dimmed as they switched to their passive mode, ready to reactivate at a moment's notice.

"Affirmative, we're prepared to infiltrate the lockup," Pharah confirmed next to her; the Tesla gun and her rocket cannon strapped to her back while she pulled a device out of a small bag, planting it on the rooftop door. It continued to drizzle as the stone roof grew damp.

Numbers flashed on the device as it unlocked the door, which opened with a quiet beep. There was a stairwell, and with a nod, the two quietly strode through the dark hallway, with Mercy's wings supplying more light than the light on the ceiling. They reached the bottom of the stairwell, which had another door similar to the other one. Pharah quickly unlocked that one. The door opened into an equally deserted hallway. Their footsteps echoed ominously as they checked each of the doors, which had numbers marking each of them. The hall was barren and cold. Angela would have avoided it at all costs if she could have.

"Take the door numbered 6504," Winston ordered through the earpiece as Pharah checked the door with the appropriate number. There was nobody present, which was unexpected but made their mission easier.

The first guard they encountered was lazily standing by the doorway they were walking through, appearing to be only half-conscious, lulled into a daze by the mundane nature of his job. He jolted to attention as the two of them strode through the door. Mercy quickly injected him with a tranquilizer, knocking him out in seconds, before he could properly react.

The room Winston led them to was full of cabinets with folders filling each of them. "Cameras are on a loop," Winston informed, voice hushed despite being safe in Gibraltar while Pharah started roughly in the middle of the long wall of cabinets, searching for a file about Lena Oxton being detained here. Mercy quickly opened the cabinet at the very end, which had information about illegal items that had been stored in the facility.

Pharah flipped through the folders deftly, which were recorded on a last name basis. She grunted when she passed from "O" to "P" with no sign of "Oxton."

"There is no sign of Lena Oxton in the folders," she admitted, turning to Angela. "Is there anything on her chronal harness?"

"Winston, what was the date Tracer turned on her harness?" Angela radioed, flipping the item folders to be close to the current date. "These are filed by date acquired rather than name, due to some of the item names being unknown.

"Three days ago," he replied, the clicking of keys being heard over the com as he continued checking the facility they were in for people coming to the room they were occupying.

Angela let out a small gasp as she yanked a slip of paper out of the filing cabinet as she began to read it aloud.

"'Overwatch agent Tracer's teleportation harness was taken from her person when detained atop an apartment building in King's Row. The subject seemed to have another teleportation device with her, as she vanished after the removal of the harness.' Oh dear, it seems she is not here."

Winston made his worry clear over the com. "I-I see. We'll find her soon. First, though, we need to find her chronal accelerator. Where is it, Mercy?"

"It appears to be in the standard lockup."

"That makes this easier. Take that folder, and go right."

Mercy hummed quietly as she ran, deep in thought. "Winston, was news of Tracer's crash ever made public?"

"We spoke of the accident, but not the nature of the plane, nor the time in between us finding her and getting her back in action. Not very many people know about her condition. Mostly just Overwatch agents she works with and the scientists that tried to remedy it." Winston admitted, unsure of where the conversation was going.

"Then what of the 'time-wielding' tagline of which the public seems so fond?" Pharah asked as she used a tranquilizer to knock out another guard.

"I believe it's just something the public made up, unaware of its accuracy. To the people, it's likely just teleportation. And because they don't know about her condition, they probably removed her harness thinking it was just a teleportation device." They both heard Winston mumble something incomprehensible on his end of the mic, but they didn't press him, as they were entering a large room with a vaulted door, only able to be opened with a correct code, a retinal scanner, and a fingerprint detector. Two guards were standing by the door, whom the twosome quickly incapacitated as they entered the room.

"Winston, the vault door is inaccessible via any subtle means," Pharah assessed, carefully analyzing the huge door that looked as solid as titanium. "What should we do about it?"

A unique, female voice bounced off the walls of the room and echoed through the earpieces. "I could help with that, _amigas_."

"Who are you?" Pharah demanded, pulling her visor down and grabbing the Tesla Cannon off her back. Mercy grabbed her staff as the nanotechnology latched itself onto the Tesla Cannon, feeding it power.

"Well, I could help with the door, the security is rather pathetic, but I'll do that on my own time. For now, why don't you have some fun with me?" the invisible girl continued in her light accent. "Unless of course, you want the cameras to pick you up. With the push of a button, the loop will stop, and alarms will blare. What would that do, one of the famous members of Overwatch, and the daughter of Captain Amari caught breaking into a secure facility? Think of the setbacks to your little Overwatch revolution you're trying to pull."

Winston had gone silent, listening carefully to the conversation. The girl was a prodigious hacker if she was able to breach the secure network to which their com devices were connected.

"Show yourself!" Pharah demanded through gritted teeth, standing back-to-back with Mercy, who warily kept her staff trained on her partner.

"Hmm, I could do that, but then you'd attack me, and the alarms would go off, then nobody would win," she mused in a singsong voice.

"Are you with Talon?" Mercy asked somberly, her eyes narrowing.

"We have mutual goals. I figured teaming with them would be beneficial. Of course, that means I'm not alone, though those two are real sticks-in-the-mud. They'd be shooting you up if they were the ones in here, but this is much more entertaining.

"And what, exactly, is your goal?" Pharah slowly began to move her hand to her head, flipping up her visor.

"To make a new friend. You see, you're more valuable than you think, Fareeha." The invisible girl spoke mockingly, yet with a strange blend of seriousness to them.

"How so?"

"I can't ruin all the fun for you. Let's just give the good, cliche answer of 'You're coming with me,' then we'll get right out of here."

The air suddenly twisted and distorted as a figure appeared in the darkness. It was a Mexican girl, roughly in her twenties. Her hair had purple highlights, and mechanical attachments ran down the back of her head. Her outfit was a black and purple robe, with bright purple nails and a tall collar reaching from the robe to her chin.

"You can call me Sombra, by the way. Nice to meet you. Oh, and Winston?" Winston flinched as she abruptly called his name. "Smart thing, to knock the camera out entirely."

Pharah took this as an opportunity to release the trigger as the Tesla Gun sparked as it roared to life.

"Tsk tsk tsk. And here I thought we could do this civilly," Sombra sprang to life, swiping her nails across the cannon, causing it to glow an unnatural purple. The light died as the gun completely shut off. Pharah glared, releasing the strap on the rocket gun, causing it to clatter to the ground as well, much to Mercy's surprise. Pharah looked at her. It was not resignation on her face. Her expression said, "Get out of here."

"Good girl," Sombra chided. Now, if you know any better, you won't move a muscle.

Mercy released the trigger on her staff, causing the blue glow to die as the nanotechnology retreated to it. Her face was calm as Sombra casually walked up to the vault, pulling up some custom HoloVid, briefly punching in a few numbers.

Soon, the vault door's locks disengaged, as Sombra strode in and rummaged through several boxes of items until she found what she wanted. "Ah hah! Here it is!" She swiped across the metal box with her odd electronics, opening it. "I hope you didn't need this," she declared in a singsong voice, holding up the chronal accelerator.

Mercy's eyes widened. So that was her goal...

The harness itself was in rough condition. The metal was scuffed and dented, and the blue light that once inhabited the center had died out completely. One of the straps was broken, and the inside of the harness' circle where the glow usually was instead looked an unnatural shade of black.

"Now, pardon me, Doctor, but I must be going with your patient. Oh, and the alarms will go off after roughly twenty seconds of my departure, so be careful," Sombra didn't seem the least bit troubled as she walked over to Pharah, who whipped her hand up to her ear, tearing off the com device, crushing it in her hand. She must not have wanted Sombra tracing it if she hasn't already.

"I'll see you soon," Mercy whispered to Pharah, who barely nodded.

Sombra cheerily grabbed Pharah by the back of her neck, who stiffened but did not protest, knowing this girl, especially if they had backup, would easily be able to get them caught. It was better if they had a chance at escaping unrecognized.

Sombra used her other finger to tap a calm Mercy on her nose. "Boop!" she sang as the two of them dissolved in a ray of purple light, leaving Mercy with twenty seconds to escape.

...

Lena made haste the instant she was back in the present. For the next few hours, she ran to the docs, where she knew she could find a cargo ship that would pass by Gibraltar. In her current state, she didn't grow weary, though she would likely feel all the backlash from the strain on her body and injuries from the fight with the assassin back in King's Row. That sounded like the touch of an angel to someone who couldn't even feel anything.

As she was running, she thought. Why was she blinking back to her experiences when she first got her condition? Why did it have to put her in Winston's shoes? Lena didn't realize just how much pain she caused him. Did he blame himself for her Chronal Disassociation? He must've thought he was the reason why the Slipstream crashed.

No! There was no way it was his fault! Perhaps it was some malfunction with the teleportation matrix, but that did not mean it was his fault! Maybe the crash was caused by mere chance: the universe pulling some cruel prank, with nothing that could be done. One this was for certain, though. It was NOT Winston's fault. Lena would make sure he knew that the moment she could speak again.

Lena's thoughts moved in circles as she ran. She never stopped: Lena ran as fast as she could for a full ten hours. Her body would feel the backlash when she got her harness back, but that didn't matter to her now. She needed to get to Gibraltar, first. She reached the coast sooner than expected. Being able to blindly run through obstacles did have its advantages, Lena supposed.

The cargo ship was still loading when she got there, with crates of goods being lifted onto the boat via crane. Taking her chances, when nobody was looking, Lena sneaked up to the pier, which was a sturdy stone, able to support her soundly. The ocean was calm and beautiful, and the ship towered over her. Carefully, Lena lined herself up with one of the windows on the lower floors. It was just below the pier, and she should be able to dive through it.

With a running jump, she leaped across the two-meter gap. A slight cold ran through her nonexistent body as she passed through the surprisingly dense window. She clattered silently to the metal floor, landing in a heap. Thankfully, the floors and walls were dense enough to support her odd form, though not very well. If she put any amount of effort towards it, she could easily fall through both walls and floor. It was as though she was lying on gelatine.

Deciding attention was not something she craved, Lena cautiously walked past the rows of crates filled with goods until she reached the front of the ship, which had a small window nearby Lena could use to figure out when to jump out. She guessed there would be at least thirty hours of travel until she reached the base, with a total of another ten before the boat left the docks, as it did not seem to be full of much cargo yet. She would have to hope her next blink out of reality was a short one.

Then she sat and waited. It was an activity she had grown used to, though not one she missed. It was all she was able to do when she had to spend those long hours in the stabilization chamber alone. She had learned the best way to pass the time was to not think. It was ironic. When she was stuck in her awful time vortex, she would be out of reality itself, but when she was present, she had to intentionally tune out reality to remain sane.

Lena smiled. Soon, she'd be back in Gibraltar, and Winston could help her get her harness back. She would be perfectly fine. There was nothing to worry about for now. They would find her harness and get it back soon. She wasn't sure how, but they'd figure something out.

The ship had barely started moving when Lena's vision clouded. She mentally sighed in defeat. At least the ship's density should keep her on the boat while she was faded since there was some slight amount of presence she still had.

Then the world flickered and vanished, forcing her back into her endless void of darkness.

...

_ Tracer and Winston wordlessly rode the helicopter back to one of the headquarters located in the Straight of Gibraltar. The sun was shining brilliantly and the base was crowded with scientists, soldiers, and other day-to-day workers. _

_ Winston had spent the time trying to give Tracer a cursory assessment, though was completely unable to make any progress. It was a large helicopter, with plenty of space in the back of the aircraft for Tracer and Winston. _

_ Tracer's eyes were wide and fearful, as she sat, curled in a ball on the floor, as though the walls could not support her, which may have been true. Neither of them wanted her to find out. _

_ "Don't worry, Lena; we'll figure this out!" Winston assured in a shaky voice, using a small HoloVid projector to type in a description of her transparent state. _

_ Tracer smiled assuringly, then letting out a sient screech as the helicopter encountered turbulence, creating a jolt. She hugged her legs and squeezed her eyes shut as she sank through the Helicopter for a split second. She scrambled to force herself back onto the surface of the platform. _

_ "Can you feel the ground?" Winston asked to her with a mixture of pity and curiosity. _

_ Tracer held her hand up and tipped it from side to side in the "somewhat" gesture. She hugged her shoulders and feigned being chilled. _

_ "So it's like passing through cold water?" _

_ Tracer thought for a second before slowly nodding. _

_ "Can you feel smaller things, such as this pen?" Winston held out a pen he kept with him to Tracer, who hesitated, before reaching for it. Her hand passed harmlessly through it, not moving the pen at all. Her eyes dimmed, and she looked down, shaking her head. _

_ "Oh! I'm sorry! That was inconsiderate of me..." Winston apologized, putting his large hand on his face. _

_ Tracer snapped to attention and shook her head, putting on another smile. _

_ "I'm sorry, Tracer. This is my fault... this whole thing... I did this..." he mumbled, leaning back against the cold metal wall of the helicopter. _

_ Tracer shook her head quickly, waving his guilt off. _

_ "Heh, don't worry! I'll fix this! I'll rebuild the slipstream matrix and run diagnostics on the system when put through high-altitude situations to find out what happened, and-" Tracer blankly listened to him drone on for hours, grateful for the distractions. _

_ The instant the helicopter landed in Gibraltar, scientists and doctors rushed out to greet her. Some of them looked worried, some looked excited. They guided her away from the helipad that overlooked the azure sea and into a room filled with cluttered papers, scanners, and strange electronic devices she didn't recognize. Winston forced some of the less sympathetic scientists to leave the room, much to their dismay. _

_ Tracer flinched as one of the doctors attempted to touch her arm, jumping as his hand passed through it easily. _

_ "It's like moving through the air, did you feel that, Ms. Oxton?" Tracer shook her head slowly, pulling her arms away and holding her wrist at her chest. _

_ "Can you feel the ground? You don't seem to be falling through that." _

_ Winston cut in for her. "She can't feel anything specific, though the denser the object is, the more it can support her," he warily informed, keeping his gaze steady on his friend. _

_ Tracer sat on the ground and watched absently as Winston, and the other researchers, ran scans throughout the chamber, searching for a reading they could use as a basis for analysis. _

_ "Incredible. She is showing no heat signatures, heart rate, even brainwaves! It's like she's not even here! The only scanner remotely picking her up is the one detecting energy anomalies!" one male scientist in a white lab coat marveled, typing notes on a HoloVid faster than Tracer could watch. _

_ She... wasn't there? Was she even alive? Was she even a living being anymore, or just a thing that thought she was when she was really dead? Was this all just a nightmare? What was she? _

_ Winston noticed Tracer's expression of shock and shot a sideways glare at the man. "So, you mean her molecules, her cells, everything that makes Lena... Lena, aren't fully here?" _

_ "It would seem so! The oblivious scientist mused without a glance. _

_ "Then where are they? And why is she only partly here, in that case?" _

_ "She crashed while piloting the Slipstream jet, correct? Ms. Oxton," he began, turning to her. "Did you experience anything unusual in the plane itself before the crash? Something that directly affected you, and not just the plane?" _

_ Tracer thought for a moment, her eyes widening. She nodded vigorously, the scientist's eyes lighting up with excitement. _

_ "Really? Can you tell us?" Winston gave the man an unamused glare, pulling out a sheet of paper and writing the alphabet on it. _

_ "Here, Lena, just point to each of the letters to spell out what happened." Winston scribbled down each letter she pointed to. "E, L, E, C, T, R, O, C, U, T, E... Electrocute? Something electrocuted you in the plane?" _

_ Tracer bit her lip remembering the horrible pain tearing through her body. She held her hand up, signifying the number two. _

_ "I-I see," Winston sympathized, looking miserable. "Did it come from the teleportation matrix?" _

_ Tracer both shrugged and nodded. It seemed likely. _

_ "I see. I'll need to run tests on it. With the current resources, I should be able to rebuild a less potent version of it... Lena!" Winston suddenly shouted, causing Tracer to jump. "What's happening to you?" _

_ Tracer looked down, her nonexistent heart stopping. She was fading. Her body was even more see-through than before, and her legs had all but vanished. _

_ Her eyes widened, her breathing sped up, and she tried to shout to Winston. "Help me!" She mouthed, as her vision clouded. _

_ The scientists and doctors scrambled to try to do something as Lena's vision faded, and the last thing she saw before traveling to her void of darkness was Winston's helpless, self-loathing expression as she vanished. _


	4. Communication

Chapter 4: Communication

Lena awoke with a start. The room was dark, dimly lit by only a few flickering lights. The cargo was secure and undisturbed, stacked expertly on top of each other. She gasped. Had they already passed Gibraltar? Lena gingerly walked up the stairs of the ship, most of the staff having already gone to sleep. Wary of the floor not being as solid as below, her feet seemed to sink through the metal platform partially. The sky was clear, with stars twinkling up above. The moon was almost full, though Lena didn't know if it was waxing or waning. The sounds of the ocean were drowned out by the hum of the ship's engine. She took a deep breath, realising with a pang of sorrow that she couldn't smell the undoubtedly salty air.

She looked around frantically, hoping for some sign of Gibraltar. Much to her dismay, she couldn't see anything in the dark. With a frustrated shake of her head, she jogged up a stairwell, through a wall into what she could only assume was the captain's room. A lone man sat lazily on an office chair, staring idly at several monitors and buttons. A steaming mug coffee threatened to fall on the floor, being propped precariously on the desk.

Deciding to drop subtlety, Lena walked directly up to him and analysed the screens. One of them was a coordinate grid, displaying the location of the ship. She knew the precise location of Gibraltar by heart, having memorised the exact location of all the old overwatch bases back in her piloting days.

Relief flooded over her, realising there was still roughly two hours before they passed Gibraltar. She pumped a fist, a huge smile forming on her lips.

"Wh-what the heck are you?" The captain grunted, his eyes wide. His white hat had fallen off, revealed scruffy grey hair. Lena held up her hands in a surrender pose until his expression changed from that of terror to wary curiosity.

"Tracer, right?" he demanded, his expression cold. "From Overwatch?"

Lena gulped and nodded. Clearly, this man was not one of the five percent the guard back in London mentioned. She instantly identified him as someone akin to the cops that pulled her harness off of her. She would need to smile for this man. No tears. No Lena.

Tracer smiled and gestured towards the coordinates, hoping he would understand.

"What, you tryin' to get somewhere?" He demanded, exchanging glances between her and the map. His mouth made a small, brief "O." I think there was some kind of building we'd be passing soon. Built into the cliffside and whatnot. You goin' there?" His voice was hostile and confused. "Any reason I can see through you?"

Tracer waved the question off. Her eyes widened at the sight of the man moving to press an alarm button. She shook her hands wildly at him, begging him not to. Seeing she did not deter him, she turned and ran, directly through the wall as alarms began to blare. Thinking quickly, Tracer decided to use her noncorporeal form to her advantage.

When he could no longer see her, Lena dove to the ground, her momentum carrying her through the floor that could barely support her. Her condition did have a few benefits for all the cons.

She searched frantically for a hiding place. If they got her on cameras, Overwatch's reputation could be damaged before they even got back together. Seeing one of the cargo crates, a large, pink one with a label Lena didn't bother to read.

Without thinking, she forced her way into the box. It was jam-packed with items, but she was able to remain in it. It was oddly uncomfortable like she was submerged deep in the ocean, with the pressure threatening to crush her. Regardless, she remained where she was, listening to the muffled sounds of guards and other men searching for her frantically, shouting orders to each other.

After roughly thirty minutes, the guards were much more calm, checking every nook and cranny for her in a much more sophisticated manner. Lena's heart almost stopped as two guards approached her hiding spot, only to lean against it nonchalantly.

"D'ya think the cap actually saw somethin'?" One of the men asked warily, in a hushed voice. "'Cause I think he's off his rocker."

"I couldn't tell you. Assuming he did, I wouldn't be surprised. I mean, I have no idea how an Overwatch agent could stow away on a ship, but assuming Tracer did, and she's here somewhere, it makes sense."

"Why d'ya think that?" The other asked curiously, beating his fingers against cargo absently.

"Well, there's an abandoned Overwatch base on our course. Right in the Straight of Gibraltar. She probably needs to get there," the second guard explained pensively.

"But why? Overwatch was shut down. They'd be in deep trouble if they got back together."

"To be fair, the world is already in deep trouble, what with the Omnic attacks in Volskaya, the recent assassination of Mondatta, and the Vishkar issue as well. Somebody has to do something. I'm not sure how I feel about the organisation on its own, what with Blackwatch and whatnot, but I can see where they're coming from," the man continued, standing upright and pacing in circles.

"Blackwatch?"

"Jeez, Mike, you're clueless."

"Sorry, Thomas," Mike didn't sound very sorry. "Anyway, what's Blackwatch?"

The one dubbed Thomas explained. "Bottom line, anything Overwatch couldn't do legally, Blackwatch did illegally. Granted, most of it had decent justifications, all things considered, but it wasn't exactly humane."

"Oh."

"Yeah, no kidding. Their less moral methods were reserved mostly for the terrorist group, Talon, but it's still not pretty."

Lena winced. Most of the more "valuable" agents had always known about Blackwatch, heck, she'd been on missions with them previously, but their interrogations, in particular, felt a bit too much like they were imitating Talon for her liking. The way their captives were isolated, gagged, deprived of almost all stimulation that was pleasant hit a bit too close to home for Lena's liking. She often found herself sneaking little things to them, such as a pillow or some decent food. While it had gotten her into hot water on some occasions, most people turned a blind eye to her actions.

"Regardless, how do you think Tracer could have ever gotten onto the ship?" Thomas asked curiously.

"I remember reading an article written by a supporter of Overwatch, theorising on how she got her time powers. Seemingly, before she fought on the front lines, she was a pilot, mostly aimed towards dogfighting. Then she abruptly went off the grid when flying some 'special' jet. The public didn't know what happened to her for about a year. Then she suddenly showed up with her powers, the glowing machine on her chest, and fought on the front lines. My guess is she has some sort of illness. A condition that makes her need that device. The captain said she didn't have it, meaning that maybe, just maybe, she is here, but we can't see her."

Mike looked sceptical. "What in the world could a jet do to make her incorporeal or invisible or something?"

Thomas answered quickly. "Rumours were floating around that the ship was able to teleport, though the sources on that are few and not very credible. It could have malfunctioned and messed up her body. The captain did say he saw her run through a wall, after all."

"So you think she's a ghost, in a manner of speaking?" Mike summarised, sounding both in awe and doubtful.

"Makes about as much sense as any other theory that has been floating around the Internet."

"Theories such as?"

"There was one I saw that said she was a time-bending demigod." Both of the men let out a hearty laugh. "Anyway, Mike, go get some sleep. I'll keep watch down here, alone." There was a strange emphasis on his words, though Lena wasn't sure if she just heard things. Her head was fuzzy and throbbing dully from being in the crate for so long.

"Thanks, Thomas. You're a saint." With a yawn, Mike strode away, his footsteps disappearing. Several seconds later, Mike called out to the room.

"Tracer, if you're in here, everybody else is gone. I won't report you or anything like that."

Lena thought for a moment. Should she risk showing herself, or continue staying in this crate of pain? After a second's pondering, she decided to step out.

She forced her way out of the crate, rubbing her pounding head. She much preferred the cold tingle of her skin touching her head as opposed to a headache from being in there.

She smiled and waved to Thomas, who quirked his eyebrow in surprise. He was somewhat young, likely in his mid-twenties, and wore a pale grey uniform that contradicted the life that flooded his eyes. "Can't say I expected you to be in there," he admitted. "We have about an hour before we reach Gibraltar. How about a chat? Nobody should bother us on this floor, so you should be okay.

Tracer's smile wavered, and she gestured to her mouth and made an "X" with her fingers.

"Can't talk? Peculiar. Tell me, then. Was my theory completely off-base? You probably heard that after all.

Tracer nodded, running her transparent fingers over where her harness should have been sitting comfortably.

"Really? So everything about the jet, the condition, and your device was accurate?" He was fairly excited, now pacing back and forth actively, his eyes trained on her.

Tracer nodded again, this time quirking her eyebrow.

"Oh, I spend quite a bit of time researching topics like this. While I don't agree with everything Overwatch did, I have to admit they had a positive effect on the planet. So are you guys getting back together?"

Tracer nodded once more.

"Great! I won't mention this to anyone until it goes public, by the way, so don't worry. Where is your device, though?"

Tracer's smile faltered, and she shrugged. Thomas flinched.

"Oh- oh jeez. I'm sorry, that was inconsiderate of me. Can you not touch things? Eat? Sleep? That's just... terrible. I should have been more sympathetic. Forgive me."

Tracer widened her grin and waved off his apology. She was used to it.

"Sorry for asking, but while we wait... Is there any chance I can ask you more questions? It's not every day someone gets to encounter an Overwatch agent.

Tracer silently laughed and nodded happily. A distraction was welcome.

The next forty-five minutes were filled with her answering yes or no questions from Thomas. The sky was barely beginning to light up when he interrupted himself mid-sentence. "Oh! We should be passing Gibraltar soon! Let's go up to the deck. I'm not sure how we can get you there, but we'll figure something out."

Tracer sprung to her feet, and followed him up the steps, keeping an eye out for anybody that might spot her. True to his word, the Gibraltar base was sitting on the cliffside in the distance, the buildings looking as pristine and elegant as ever. The hangar entrance was obscured by the rock formations that sported several control centres, most of which had their doors left open to make way for the beautiful natural sunlight.

Swimming. That was how she'd get there. It was her only choice. She could run for hours without tiring. What were a few miles of swimming?

Her eyes lit up as she turned to face Thomas, who was smiling kindly. She bowed curtly as a thank-you.

"No problem. Sorry, I can't take you there myself. I'd give you a life raft, but, y'know... anyway, take care!" He waves to her, and turns and walks away without looking back. He was kind, and Tracer could agree with his views for the most part. Having a nice, long conversation was pleasant.

She glanced down at the waves lapping the side of the boat. Heights never bothered her, and she didn't have any other choice. She closed her eyes and dove. It took her a few seconds to realise she hit the water, as she swam to the surface. There was no pain, of course. While that was a plus, it felt isolation, to be in your own plane of existence. She shook her head, and began to swim, forcing out her negative thoughts.

Gibraltar was a few hours of swimming away. Then she'd be with Winston. Excitement blossomed in her chest. She could get her harness back soon!

...

Winston and Angela sat across from each other, Angela looking exhausted, with her head resting on her crossed elbows, while Winston covered his eyes with his large hands. They were in the main debriefing room. The table Winston had used as a workbench had all its contents thrust to the ground in a heap. He was sitting in a tire while Angela rested in a foldable chair. The tension in the room was palpable, as both the heroes were at a loss as to their next move. Talon captured Fareeha, and for what? They gained nothing from her loss.

"Two alerts for you, Winston," Athena broke the silence, making both of them jump.

"What is it, Athena?" Winston mumbled, barely paying attention.

"Jesse McCree has transmitted a message that he should be arriving in a day or so."

"Good, good," Winston absently murmured. "And the other alert?"

"A slight energy anomaly has been travelling up the cliffside. As of yet, we do not have visuals, though."

Winston didn't even realise he had gotten to his feet until he noticed Angela having snapped to attention. They looked at each other, eyes wide.

"L-Lena! But how could she have-" They both bolted out of the room without a second thought. The door burst open, flooding the room with sunlight. Sure enough, as they approached the cliff, a certain agent was climbing it, struggling to gain a foothold. "Lena!" Winston declared joyously, startling her. She flinched, and almost lost her grip on the cliffside, which she was struggling to grasp properly. She was transparent and flickering in the ghostly form Winston remembered her as for months on end.

Poor Lena," Angela grieved, halfway into the process of stretching her hand out to help Lena up, only to recoil with dismay when she remembered Lena couldn't grasp her hand. "I had hoped to never see her like this again."

Lena finally crawled to the top, grinning wildly, though bouncing up and down as though she wasn't sure what to do with herself. She seemed to wish to run right into them with an embrace, yet she kept her distance.

"Lena! I'm so glad you're safe! Oh, my... just... thank goodness!" Winston stuttered awkwardly, rooted in place as well. All at once, his expression grew sombre. "About how many hours ago was your last vanish?"

Lena shrugged and held up six fingers.

"So we may have time until your next one to debrief you. Come on; we need to get you to the stabilisation chamber. We'll talk there. We have a dilemma on our hands.

...

The two soldiers huddled in the shaggy building, intently listening to the com device they were sharing. One of them had snow white hair, a red, white, and blue jacket with a "76" printed on the back, and a glowing, scarlet visor.

The other wore a grey and blue soldier's outfit, complete with hidden ammo pockets, a belt with her nanotechnology grenades, and a hoodie covering her hair. Her biotic rifle lay next to the other soldier's heavy pulse rifle, ready to be grabbed at a moment's notice. The com device was hooked up to a scrapped together computer, attemting to intercept a signal from Talon.

"Ana, are you sure this is going to work?" Soldier 76 asked for the third time, full of scepticism.

"Honestly, Jack, have a little faith in me," she joked back to him, adjusting settings on the scrap heap that was their radio transmitter. The room was incredibly cramped, barely fitting their weapons, rations, and machine, but they were in no position to complain. It was one of the best places they've had all month.

The comm blared to life with some static, as voices spoke on the other end. "Sombra, do you have the target?" They both winced, recognising the voice as Gabriel Reyes.

"Of course I have her. Come now, you know me better than that," another mysterious girl retorted playfully in an accent. "Of course I have her, plus a new toy. Hey! Come here for a second!" The girl called to someone else near her. Shuffling was heard as someone new was given the mic. "Why don't you say hi to your mother, little Fareeha?"

Jack felt Ana stiffen as a shiver went through his spine. They had already been compromised. This person was skilled.

"My mother is dead," was all the unmistakeable voice of Fareeha Amari said, emotionless.

"Oh, I'd think twice about that. Now, off to Hanamura with you!" she declared in a singsong voice. "Boop!"

Silence echoed through the room as the comm was interrupted. Quickly, Jack began dismantling the contraption, storing the pieces strategically in various pockets. When he was done, he turned to Ana.

"Come on, we need to move," he tried and failed to convey sympathetically. Ana was shaking, which was unusual for her.

"Jack! We need to save her! We need to save my daughter!" Ana commanded in a hushed whisper. Her back was turned, and her head was bowed.

"We can't risk that. You know it."

"But it's Fareeha! She's in Talon's hand! They said Hanamura! We need to go there!"

"Ana, this isn't like you," Jack admitted, uncomfortable at seeing his partner break down.

"What if it were your siblings?"

Jack was silent for several seconds. "I hate it when you're right. Even still, you know we can't risk it."

"That's what we thought last time."

"This isn't like last time."

"How is this not like Amélie?"


	5. Messages

**C** hapter 5: Messages

Fareeha didn't open her eyes, even when she was conscious. Her arms were spread out, and her legs were stuck together, forcing her into a T-pose. She tested her bindings, though the straps were firm and refused to budge. She was out of her armour, likely in the light clothing she wore underneath it.

They had knocked her out directly after their communicator call, in which the one called Sombra told her to "say hello to her mother." That made no sense. Her mother had been dead since a failed mission years ago. Perhaps they merely meant to kill her and send her to the afterlife with her mother.

And yet, the idea had rooted itself. Could Captain Amari have survived the mission? Nobody could find a body, after all. It was a small seed of doubt. Fareeha shook her head, forcing the idea out. It was a naíve and foolish hope of which to cling.

Finally, Fareeha cracked her eyelids open. White flooded her vision as she blinked, not expecting the walls to be so horribly bright. A light strip was the only source of illumination, and the door was discernible only by a rectangular indent in the otherwise spotless wall. She wondered with a hint of sardonic humour is this is the same place where Talon brainwashed Amelié.

Pharah took a deep breath. Odds are, they were going to try to do the same thing to her. It was a sobering thought that in a matter of hours she might not be the same person. She shook her head. "I will protect the innocent..." she mumbled under her breath. The words were familiar in her mouth and offered some reassurance. She would never let Talon twist her like they did Amelié.

Perhaps that was precisely what Amelié did feel, and look how it turned out. Fareeha would need more grit. She would need to assume anything they said was a lie. Whether they would be using more painful techniques was unknown, but that didn't bother her as much as it should. If they tried to use pain to persuade her, it meant they didn't think they could twist her with words.

"I will protect the innocent..." she murmured again. Siding with Talon would keep her from doing so. It was an oath she made the day her mother perished. But what if she truly was alive?

Fareeha shook her head. That didn't change anything. On the incredibly off chance that her mother was not yet dead, she had still made that oath. If she joined Talon, she'd be putting lives in danger. She would not let this happen to her.

Mercy had said they would come for her. Fareeha had no choice but to put all her faith in them. She only had to survive until then.

"I will protect the innocent." She would make sure this was the truth. Then the door seemed to move back and slide away, reminiscent of a sliding car door. Widowmaker strode through the door, her expression blank. She was wearing a suggestive pink, skin-tight one piece. A black stripe travelled around her torso. The outfit turned purple once it reached the legs, with grey snaking around the outfit, much like a black spider web. She had black boots, though she was without her standard gauntlets or helmet she wore during missions. Her hair was loose, flowing down her shoulders; her skin was a sickly shade of blue, almost purple.

"You look comfortable," Widowmaker remarked blankly, her voice smooth and even. "I hope you are settling in well. You're going to be here a while." The sweet tone she used sent shivers down Pharah's spine. She felt so exposed without her Raptora suit. She continued when Fareeha did not respond, merely glaring at her. "Do not fear, for I just wish to have a little... chat with you," she smiled coldly, like a lion that just found its next meal.

"Your mother was such a skilled sniper. She nearly killed me, as a matter of fact. She made a foolish mistake, though."

Fareeha said nothing.

"She hesitated. Ana Amari, the greatest sniper in Overwatch, was unable to claim the life of a traitor. So I retaliated. It was an easy shot: directly through the scope of her rifle into her eye. I am surprised that she was able to survive such a shot."

"My mother was never shot in the eye before her death," Fareeha insisted, afraid of what she would hear next.

"I think we both know what shot I am speaking. It was the shot that 'claimed her life.' And yet, she somehow survived it. Impressive that sweet, old Ana did so with such minimal medical attention." Widowmaker's voice was so close to flat, yet underneath it, there was a mixture of admiration, shown by a slight raising of her tone, almost unnoticeable.

"Of course, you don't believe me. You think your dear old mother is long since gone, do you not?" Fareeha said nothing, but she was shaking. Widowmaker chuckled. It was the heartless laugh of someone who took pleasure in other's suffering. She was clutching something in her fist, Fareeha noticed. She held it in the palm of her hand. It was a HoloVid. The small box blinked to life, projecting a video.

Fareeha's heart stopped. The world faded out of view as the security footage flipped her whole world on its head. It was near the Temple of Anubis, around midday. The walls were an off-white and pleasant to look at with desert trees, reminiscent of an oasis, poking over the top. The tape caught two figures on camera. One of them was the ghostly and unnatural form of the Reaper. He was fighting one other person: the vigilante known as Soldier 76. As the two scuffled, Reaper's shotgun hit the soldier point-blank in the side, and he toppled to the ground, clutching his side. There was surprisingly little blood, given the force of the blast.

Reaper stood over Soldier 76, speaking for a moment. Suddenly, he stopped clutching his side, seeming to be in shock. Newly healed, he tackled Reaper, who vanished into a wisp. A few seconds later, he fell to the ground, someone else on top of him.

It was Fareeha's mother: Ana Amari. There was no doubt about it. She was wearing a blue and grey soldier uniform, a hoodie, and an eyepatch, but there was no doubt about it. It was her mother. On top of Reaper, she pulled off the mask he was wearing, a look of horror overcoming her. Reaper disappeared into a wisp once more, and he was gone.

Pharah's eyes widened once more when Soldier 76 took his mask off, revealing himself as the long-dead Commander Jack Morrison. He had a scar trailing across his face, but it was him.

Widowmaker smirked, letting the HoloVid blink off with a beep.

"Surprised? To be honest, I was too. It's not every day someone can survive a bullet shot to the eye."

"What does this have to do with me?" Pharah finally asked, hoping her voice didn't shake too much. Her mother was alive. Her mother was alive and never told her daughter. There was hurt, a lot of it, but what Sombra had done, giving her the communicator, suddenly made sense. Her mother must have been listening in on the conversation when Sombra put the mic to her ear.

"Oh, I'm sure you know what it means. Perhaps you would like to help us put her in the grave like she belongs?" Widowmaker asked, knowing the obvious answer. Fareeha only glared at her.

"I'll be honest; I thought the same thing about Gérard when Talon requested the same thing from me. Of course, I was not to eliminate my husband. To this day, I wish I did not need to." She was not sad, that much was evident, yet there was something in her voice that Fareeha couldn't put her finger on.

"Then why would you?" Pharah asked coldly, her gaze not wavering from her captor.

"Because he was a threat. He knew things that made him dangerous to both Talon and the world as a whole, much like your mother."

"Such as how to take down your little organisation you have here," Pharah remarked, her voice neutral.

"He interfered with Talon's goals." she continued, unwavering.

"Which are?"

"Come now; I cannot tell you everything, now can I?" Widowmaker retorted like a parent joking with their child. She idly leant against a wall, staring at the dim light above. "Of course I did not wish to kill him, but I had to do so."

"Everyone at Overwatch believed you to be brainwashed," Fareeha admitted, surprised at how… human Amelié was acting.

"Perhaps. They may have tricked me into killing Gérard, yet they might not have. I could not tell you. I will tell you one thing, though, little Fareeha. They did not 'brainwash' me into joining them." Her voice was still calm and collected, yet it contained an unexpected softness to it. Not regret, sadness, nor pity, but something akin to resignation, like an animal that knew it had been caught and gave itself up.

"Then why join Talon?"

"And go back to Overwatch?" Her voice quieted, she narrows her eyes, the smirk returning to her face, "Once the deed was done, there was nowhere else to go."

Lena hated the stabilisation chamber. She hated it with all her heart, yet she had no choice but lie her legs against the metal platform, with her feet sticking upwards. Her back was lying flat on the metal ground, perhaps phasing through some wires, though it was of no consequence to her. It was a favourite pose of her's. It let her stare blankly ahead at the tangle of cords above her, all dusty and unused for years. She preferred it to the dull, grey walls that made her feel so horribly caged.

…

Tracer sighed as Winston powered on the many inefficient devices in the room. They all served as a means to keep her anchored in the present, but they did not properly work. It was barely enough to keep her from fading too often, but she still could not touch anything.

She lolled her head back and listened intently as Winston paced around the room, debriefing her in his normal, nervous way.

"After Angela and Fareeha infiltrated the lockup facility, someone halted their progress, taking the chronal accelerator and Fareeha. Angela was able to flee, putting her suit in emergency mode, allowing the flight system to carry her here."

"I don't use that unless it's an emergency. It can damage the hardware, and all other functions become nonexistent when doing so," Angela explained, sitting on the windowsill of the room with her legs crossed, though she still looked drained.

"What could that girl have wanted with Fareeha?" Winston asked, eyes flicking between Mercy and Lena.

"She was likely from Talon, given how she described her operatives. We should start from that assumption," Lena grimaced but didn't "say" anything. Mercy continued. "If that girl is with Talon, then we can assume it has something to do with Captain Amari."

"But what? Captain Amari died a long time ago," Winston sighed sadly. "I couldn't think of anything beyond trying to tarnish her name."

Angela looked pensive. "Well, Fareeha is a member of Helix Security now. She was permitted leave to 'investigate' suspicious activity. The higher-ups didn't ask too many questions due to her track record, but regardless, maybe Talon wants some power over them?"

"But Helix is the kind of company to prioritise mission over man. I doubt they would jeopardise their many soldiers and their current objectives for one. Plus, that would put Talon in a tricky spot should Helix decline a hostage exchange," Winston argued, still pacing, seeming to have forgotten Lena's presence.

"I don't think they have much to gain by trying to make her turn on us, either," Angela mused, shifting her legs into a more comfortable position. "Though, they certainly have the means to do so," Mercy trailed off, her eyes flitting to the ground as worry made itself evident.

Deciding they hit a wall, Winston changed the subject. "The odd thing is how they took both the harness and Fareeha. The harness only works for Lena," Winston nervously glanced at the transparent girl before continuing. "Nobody else would be able to get any use out of it, even if they knew how it worked."

"Was the device not based off of the original teleportation matrix from the Slipstream jet?" Angela asked despite Lena knowing she already knew the answer to that question.

"Well, yes, it was. But the amount of people who knew about the chronal accelerator and how it functioned is small. The number of individuals who knew about the Slipstream is even lower, with only a handful of mechanics, scientists, and the doctors that tried to help Lena before I made the harness. I don't see how anyone at Talon could have that information," Winston admitted.

"The important thing is that they took it. Talon also took Fareeha while we were there. Maybe they stole it knowing it was important since we were after it," Angela theorised, looking out the window at the night seaside next to them while the sun began its descent. "Perhaps Fareeha was their target the whole time, and they saw our infiltration as an acceptable time to take both."

In other words, it was Lena's fault. Neither of them was saying it, perhaps it hadn't even crossed either of their minds, but that was the subtext she gleaned from it. Because she had to fail to save Mondatta, her harness was damaged. Because she failed to get away, her accelerator was stolen. Because she couldn't get back to Winston first to let him know she wasn't with it, they went after it, and Fareeha was captured.

Talon might be torturing Fareeha for all Lena knew. It was her fault. All because of her stupid condition. All because of what she was.

Ignoring the tears that were trickling out of her eyes, Lena jumped up and ran.

"L-Lena!" Winston shouted after her, surprised. "Don't leave the room! You're more likely to disappear!"

She ignored him and ran. It was all she was good at, running. She heard Winston's clumsy run after her as she bolted down the hallway, finally stopping once she reached what had been her room after Winston made her harness.

Everything was exactly how she left it. Posters of jets adorned the walls; the orange covers were haphazardly lying on the bed. Her dresser, which had a simple lamp and a special notebook and pen were actively collecting dust. A charger for her harness lay on the ground, unused and empty.

Winston knew she had gone into her room, though he and Angela were speaking quietly outside her door, not barging in.

Lena slowly walked over to her notebook. A similar pen lay next to it. They both flickered oddly, the same way she did. Winston had destabilised them, much like almost anything else Lena owned. She picked up the book, brushing her hand along the cold surface. It was a hardback book with no title, though the pages were full of writing. Many of them ranged from doodles to short stories to even poems she had written in her abundance of free time in the stabilisation room. Several of them, however, were diary entries. Being the only one who could touch the book and open it, it was the only place she dared write her complaints in. She opened it to one of the entries and read.

**_Dear Journal,_ **

**_Today, Winston brought me a new pair of clothes. They're simple pyjamas, but they're way better than the burnt flight outfit I'd been wearing since the crash. He says he doesn't know how to destabilise electronics yet, so a video game or something of the likes is off the table for now. That's okay, I guess. Either way, the electronics in the room that are supposed to stabilise me interfere with normal things such as TVs. It's pretty annoying._ **

**_I had another dream. I was someone named Gérard. His wife had been kidnapped by Talon, but they found her later with nothing seeming to be wrong with her. She was incredibly kind to him, and he loved her back, both seeming to be relieved that she was just alive and that they were together again. Then she just... killed him. He was in bed, and when he woke up, Amelie was standing over him, with a knife in hand. There were tears in her eyes, and she was shaking, but she did it. She went right for the throat so that he couldn't scream. The blood choked him as it spilt over the bed. The room seemed to get lighter and darker at the same time, hot and cold all at once. Two tears streamed from Amelié's face as she stood over him. She had kissed him on the lips despite all the bleeding. The final thing he saw before dying, and before I went back into the void, was her jumping out of the window to escape. I don't know why she could have done that. Is that was Talon does to people? Why would they do something so horrible as to twist someone to turn on their lover? That had to be the reason, but why?_ **

**_Honestly, Journal, I don't know how much more of this I can take. It's been a full month, and I'm still like this. I'm still not human. Winston doesn't know about the dreams. Neither does Angela or any of the other doctors. Even if I could talk, I doubt I could tell them. I've seen so many different things and people, and I've experienced death so many times. I don't want it to be anyone else's problem, but at the same time, I don't know how I can keep doing this. I couldn't even end my life if I wanted to. I'm stuck as this thing, and I hate it! Why did the jet crash? Why did it have to be me? Winston insists he's made progress, sure, but how much? What if he hits a wall in his research? So far, he's only been able to desynchronize things, never the other way around._ **

**_I can't keep doing this. Every time I fade, I dream about something. Every time, it's painful. I've had very few dreams that I like. It's like being afraid to go to sleep because of nightmares; only there's no medication to help. I miss being able to touch things, too. I miss the feeling of the ground beneath my feet, of hugging a friend, of the sun shining down on me. I miss being able to eat and sleep, even being able to feel pain. Everything is just cold. I can barely even remember what it feels like to be warm. I am, by every sense of the word, a ghost._ **

**_I'm sorry for talking to you about this, Journal. It's the only place I can risk dropping my smile. Thank you for being such a good listener. Unfortunately, I'm running out of room on this page, and I can feel myself slipping. I wonder what I'll dream this time. Until next time, I guess. Cheers, love._ **

**_-Lena Oxton_ **

Tears freely fell from Lena's face now. She flipped to another page of the journal and had started to read it when it fell from her grasp without warning, landing face-up on the desk, still open to the same page. Lena tried to close it, only to see that her hands were vanishing.

She realised Winston or Angela could read this page if they came in. Part of her wished desperately to close it and keep all this hidden, yet part of her hoped they would read it, and she wouldn't need to be the one to tell them.

The darkness seeped into her vision as she flopped onto the bed and fell into the darkness again. Maybe she should've stayed in the stabilisation room.

...

"Winston!" Mercy chastised as the two idled outside Lena's room. "Stop blaming yourself for everything!"

"But it is my fault. I should've been more careful in my warning," Winston admitted regretfully, putting his head in his hand. "I know Lena is sensitive about this stuff, but I said it anyway."

"Stop!" Angela shouted, startling him. "Of course you blame yourself, I get it! You blame yourself for the jet crash! You blame yourself for taking so long to help her! You blame yourself for Fareeha! You blame yourself for this!" she gestured wildly to the closed door than Lena had run directly through. "I blame myself for a lot of things too! For being so careless with helping her! For not thinking of how she felt! For letting Fareeha be captured without a fight! Hell, I blame myself for ninety percent of the patients I work with!" she hesitated for a second, then proceeded in a hushed voice.

"But what do you think Lena blames herself for? She probably blames herself for worrying you so much, for Mondatta being killed, for losing the device, for causing us to run after it and Fareeha being captured. Think about this from her perspective. She pretends to be all upbeat but come now. She's not stupid. She knows the situation she's in, and she hates it!" Angela wiped a tear away. "Come on, let's go check on Lena," she commanded to the shocked Winston, who numbly nodded, still absorbing what she had said.

She knocked lightly on the door. "Lena? Are you there?" Not expecting a reply, she opened the door. Nobody was in the room. "She vanished..." Mercy realised, her heart sinking. We'll need to wait for her to come ba-" she cut herself off, noticing something unusual. The journal was lying on the desk, wide open.

"Is that her diary?" Winston asked rhetorically. They both approached it, Angela turning on the desk lamp. When she reached down to touch it, she felt her hand pass through it without budging the pages.

"This must be the one you had given her before you made the harness."

Angela turned to leave, only to see Winston staring intently at the page filled with writing.

"Angela, I need to understand how she feels. I know it's not right, but we both know she doesn't ever tell us her feelings. I need to understand her," he admitted, hovering over the book.

"It's a direct violation of her privacy," she warned. "You know she wouldn't like it."

"Well, I don't like that she won't let me understand how she feels! I'm reading it!" he insisted, both guilty yet determined.

Angela sighed. "I cannot say that I am not worried about her too. Read it out loud," she conceded, sitting on the bed as Winston began to read from the book.

...

Genji had not been expecting much that day. He had mostly been keeping tabs on his brother's whereabouts while still in Hanamura. He was several miles away from his old home as he took shelter in an abandoned hotel.

What he had not been expecting was a message to pop up in his visor from someone long-since dead.

"Six days, meet us in the place where you would slack from your job, close to where Angela found you. Debriefing. Don't be late, or shirk from your duties to take down your legacy. If you can get anyone from your Recall shenanigans down here too, that'd be peachy. Tell them it's about Fareeha."

There was no address that Genji could see, but the wording, the facts, the little things that were strewn about the short message reminded him of one person, and one person alone. Jack Morrison.

Genji had always doubted that the commander would so quickly die in an explosion. Genji himself was familiar with near-death experiences, so he wasn't as surprised as he likely should have been. There was likely nobody else that it could have been.

Genji had received the recall message and was going to respond once he had a way to reach Gibraltar, but it seemed he'd be calling them to him. He prepared a message, his thoughts translating directly to the message system he had installed into his visor.

"Genji, here. I received word from someone trustworthy. Meet me in the arcade near the Shimada property in five days; someone is meeting us soon after. It's important. Something about Fareeha." The message sent to Gibraltar's computers. Hopefully, he'd get a reply. Soon, Genji was leaving the hotel, dashing past the many cherry blossom trees, using them as cover to avoid detection by the few locals in the fairly unpopulated area.

He did not know who Fareeha was, but he had the feeling this person was important. He'd be back at the arcade in a matter of hours at the speed he was running.

While running, he thought. The Sakura trees melded into a land of pink leaves and green grass as he did so. Why did Jack Morrison not alert anybody that he had survived the explosion? It seemed somewhat petty, despite him apparently having his reasons. Genji chuckled at his hypocrisy. He had not told his brother until a few days ago that he was alive, so Genji did not have much room to complain.

The question remained: why did Commander Morrison wish to meet in Hanamura of all places? Surely, it was not for Genji's convenience. Perhaps it had something to do with the Shimada clan itself. He would not put it past his families organisation to cause trouble beyond the grave.

And whoever this Fareeha person was, Genji hoped that if it was a person in danger, that they were well.

...

Jack and Ana had managed to stowaway on a commercial flight to Japan. They were both crammed into the cramped luggage department, with suitcases of varying sizes and weights cramming them both. However, it hurt little more than their egos.

"I'm surprised, Jack. You don't seem the type to give up your secret so quickly," Ana mused as she tried to move a suitcase to be more comfortable.

"Well, if we're going to walk straight into a trap, we may as well have some backup," he retorted, leaning against a huge bag packed full of items.

"Thank you for agreeing to help," Ana offered offhandedly.

"Hey, you took the time to worry about my war. I owe it to you to help with yours. Not to mention, I quite like Fareeha. Nice kid, she has a good heart. Wouldn't want anything to happen to her," he admitted after a moment. They both grunted as the plane experienced turbulence, throwing them off balance.

"How did you know about the recall anyway?"

"You have your tricks; I have mine."

"I'm surprised Overwatch is getting back together after all this time," Ana admitted nervously.

"Can't say I disagree, but I'm also not complaining. Having some of the actual artillery from the bases and a team to back us up would come in handy."

"Funny how you mention the 'artillery' before the soldiers," Ana teased idly.

"You know I have questionable morals," he awkwardly joked back, trying to lie down on the mountain of luggage. "If all goes well, we'll get some help and save Fareeha. Maybe join Overwatch afterwards," he mused.

"If all goes well, indeed," Ana agreed. After a few minutes of comfortable silence, Ana asked something unexpected. "How do you think Jesse is doing?"

"The cowboy? He was entertaining enough to be around, but he's probably raising hell in who-knows-where unless he's joining up with Overwatch as well. Why? You miss him?"

Ana shrugged. "He was a good test subject for my sleep darts."

"Heh, he never liked that much."

"Well, he should know better than to get into arguments with Angela," she retorted, chuckling.

"True."

They groaned as turbulence disturbed their semi-comfortable setup of luggage once more.

"I just hope we're not too late, Jack," Ana admitted. "Fareeha has always been stubborn, but so has Talon."

"Ana, that kid is as stubborn as you, me, Reyes, and Jesse combined. Talon doesn't stand a chance against her.


	6. Smiles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys. Unfortunately, I think this is where my uploads become less consistent. I will try to upload every Wednesday, but it may wind up being every other Wednesday. Sorry if I get delayed and thank you for your patience. Without further ado, enjoy chapter six. Also, some pretty blatant inspiration from Thanks, Dad: Love Hana, arguably the greatest Overwatch fanfiction ever, so just go read that. I swear the obvious similarities are just because I like that story a ton, though! Anyway, enjoy!

Chapter 6: Smiles

**Dear Journal,**

**It’s been three months, two weeks, and five days since I returned. It’s finally my birthday. Though, I don’t think I’m any older. My hair hasn’t grown, the few injuries I have from the Slipstream crash neither bleed or heal, and I look exactly the same. Does that mean I should change my birthday by the amount of days I’m like this? Who knows?**

**I had two more dreams since I last wrote in here. In the first one, I was a ninja from the Shimada clan named Genji Shimada. He had been disobeying his clan, rejecting his family’s legacy. His brother, Hanzo Shimada, had to kill him as punishment. It feels weird when I say it here, but since I truly was Genji during that dream, it made perfect sense. Genji knew he was about to be killed, yet he made no efforts to resist as he was tied to a post. His arms were bound by the wrists with a coarse rope. He was at the base of a mountain, somewhat secluded. The rocks were a pale brown, and one was stabbing into his knee from where he was sitting. He had been stripped of his clothing, and Hanzo stood over him, his expression grim. He held a sword; the steel was polished and smooth. Genji was chuckling to himself out of a sense of resignation, knowing his life was coming to an end.**

**Hanzo had raised his sword, and shouted, at the top of his lungs “Ryuu ga waga teki wo karau!” Because I essentially was Genji, I understood the meaning perfectly. “Let the dragon consume you.” Out of the blade, a bright, blue dragon emerged, gracefully arching across the sky towards Genji as Hanzo swung the katana. His tattoo sparked with energy. The dragon flew into Genji, sending searing pain through him, like fire flooding his veins. His blood spilt through horrible burns and cuts. The dragon looped around and hit Genji from the right side, this time clamping his jaws around him, his teeth sinking into his arms and legs. It felt like knives; the blood stained the rocks, making them look almost pink. His shoulder’s felt as though ice was creeping over them, with led weights forcing him to the ground. He slumped, his head bobbing to the ground as he choked on some of his blood. Genji fell to the ground as his vision dimmed. It wasn’t like most other dreams, though. He grew colder, and breathing laboured, but it wasn’t as… final feeling as Genji blacked out after watching as Hanzo drop the blade to the ground and walk away. In most dreams, I can feel it as the breath leaks from the person’s lungs, but this time, it was as if he was just falling asleep. Maybe he died shortly after that. I’m not sure.**

**In my second dream, I was a climatologist named Mei-Ling Zhou. Except, that time, I was merely seeing through her eyes, feeling what she did, and hearing her thoughts. I was still conscious. I could still think like me, though had no control over what happened. It wasn’t as bad as the first dream. She and a few other scientists were in a place known as Ecopoint: Antarctica. A blizzard hit, and everyone took shelter inside. The heaters were not working, so everyone was bundled up together in several layers of jackets. The wind could be heard outside, like the howling of wolves. I stayed as Mei for weeks afterwards, even if I only vanished for a few days in real time.**

**After the snowstorm, communications went down. The scientists had to ration their food. Mei was always hungry, yet never once complained. Her hunger was like a monster eating her stomach from the inside out, yet she readily ate the smallest portions, sometimes even giving part of hers to others. It was very admirable. She was acting so truly selfless, not acting out of any sense of obligation. I wish I could be that selfless. I’ve been worrying so much about my Chronal Disassociation, that I’ve been dropping my smile.**

**Mei even smiled as her comrades and her locked themselves in cryostasis chambers. They were running out of food and needed a way to survive. One at a time, Mei helped them in, offering words of comfort as they prepared to freeze themselves in time. When all her friends were freezing, she closed her pod as the cryostasis began. It was like spiders crawling over her skin, which turned into needles. Everything started to fade as movement grew difficult, breathing, laboured. Everything faded to black in a weird, fuzzy way. Mei was smiling the whole time.**

**I don’t know how she did it, does it, will do it, whenever it was. Here I’ve been, in a room specially designed for me, with a journal, a stack of books Winston gave me today, and Overwatch’s best doctor, Angela Ziegler, helping me. Yet I’ve been sitting here, moping! The other day, Winston walked in on me while I was crying! How could I, when people like Mei didn’t utter a single complaint? I can’t let anybody see me like that again. I need to smile; I have so much to be grateful for. I won’t let Winston see me like this again!**

**Despite all this, I can’t help but worry about how nonchalant I’ve become about all of this. In my dreams, I’ve died more times than I can count. Sure, there’s been a few pleasant dreams, bur most of them are horrible and violent. It’s terrifying at first, but now I’m just not as intimidated by the concept of death. How will that affect my mind if when I can return to normal? The thought in and of itself is scarier than death at this point.**

**I also feel like I’m prying into people’s personal matters, infiltrating a very private aspect of a person’s life: their mind. I have no right to be in another person’s head, hearing their thoughts; at the same time, I have no choice. I know things that I shouldn’t know. Secrets about friends and foes alike. Even things about Dr Ziegler and Winston. I know about Harold Winston, I know about what happens to Gabriel Reyes, I am aware that Overwatch won’t last forever. It is going to crumble and will need to be rebuilt from the ground up.**

**The thing I hate the most about my dreams is that I’m losing myself. Every time I lose consciousness in a dream, I am not looking at the world through my eyes. I share the point of view as someone else. Their wishes, motivations, personalities, and morals. If I’m a member of some criminal organisation, I think and breathe like that person. How do I continue to be myself when I physically can’t think on my own?**

**I just don’t know. I’m yet to see a future where I’m me. It may be a coincidence. I hope it is. I cannot handle this for much longer. I can only hope and pray that Winston manages to fix my condition. In the meantime, I’ll just keep smiling.**

**Cheers,**

**Lena Oxton**

Winston’s voice trembled as he read the final line, her name written in a surprisingly neat cursive that he didn’t know Lena could write in. The room was quiet enough that a pin dropping would sound like an explosion. Winston turned his gaze to Angela, who’s hand was covering her mouth, her eyes wide with a single tear dripping down her cheek.

“She… dreams?” Angela asked, as though she wished it weren’t true.

“No, she doesn’t dream. She goes to other times, and becomes other people!” Winston realised with dawning horror.

“She knew about Overwatch’s collapse the whole time. She knows about… Gabriel,” Mercy muttered, avoiding eye contact with Winston. He didn’t press.

“I never told her about Dr Harold Winston; there’s no way she should’ve known.”

“I knew Lena hated her time in the stabilisation chamber, but her time out of it… I didn’t even know she was conscious when not here,” Mercy admitted, ashamed. “To keep such vivid and violent memories to herself… It’s downright self-destructive. To think she felt Genji’s pain as her own… Genji was minutes away from death when I found him. If Lena was present for all of that, I can’t even imagine how she must’ve felt. Genji disobeyed his clan! He knew the punishment, and had accepted it! Lena did nothing to deserve that!” Mercy had fallen to the ground on her knees, her head in her hands.

“And what was that about the climatologist? We lost touch with that base a long time ago but were never able to regain contact with them. What if they’re still there? We’ll need to go there to make sure they’re okay!” Winston muttered distractedly. “Lena was there for weeks? Starving?”

“We both know she wrote quite a bit in this notebook. I cannot even imagine what else she experienced. Why did she keep it to herself?” Mercy asked, almost pleaded.

“She didn’t want us to worry more,” Winston mumbled, barely loud enough for her to hear. “She thought it would be selfish. She thought it would be whining.”

“Of course she did. What else could you expect from Lena?” Angela admitted, rubbing her temples. “I wouldn’t last a month having dreams like that. How long was it until we were able to make the harness?”

Winston sighed. “It was roughly a year. I should’ve worked faster. Still, we need to stop brooding. It won’t help anyone. Let’s just get to work and- “

“Don’t try to sweep this under the rug!” Angela shouted, making Winston jump. “She’s been dreaming out graphic depictions of people dying, and she hasn’t told us!”

“That was her choice. There’s nothing we can do about what happened.”

“Well, what if she’s reliving what happened right now? Who knows what she’s dreaming right now. Maybe she’s going through the jet crash, or the explosion in the Swiss headquarters. Maybe she’s Fareeha, right now! She could be anywhere, experiencing any pain imaginable! How could you just act like it's nothing?” Mercy shouted, pacing frantically around the room. “For a full year, she hasn’t been able to feel anything except pain! And it’s our fault!”

“It is not our fault! It’s mine, and we both know it! I was the one to suggest she fly the Slipstream! I was the one to clear the teleportation matrix for a test run! Stop pretending like it’s your fault! It’s mine, and we both know it. Now, while Lena is out there, dreaming about who-knows-what, we’re sitting here, brooding like a couple of children! Now hurry up and act like a soldier! We’re going to make her a makeshift harness that can stabilise her barely until we can get the original back, and we’re doing it now! I’ve already failed to save one person that’s family to me; I’m not messing that up again!”

Mercy was at a loss for words. She stuttered for a few seconds before Winston turned and walked away, tilting his head as if to say “come on.” If he noticed, he didn’t do anything about the single, long tear trailing down his cheek.

As they walked in an awkward silence to the lab, Winston couldn’t help but wonder whether or not Lena’s dream was as miserable as the one’s she had written about.

…

_ “Alright, it may have taken over a year since the Slipstream, but I think we’re finally done, Angela!” Winston delighted in his handiwork before him. “Hopefully, this chronal accelerator will fully stabilise Lena.” _

_ The two of them had been working tirelessly in Winston’s lab on the device that could finally anchor Lena. The lab was a cluttered mess, with electronics strewn about the place. The duplicate of the Slipstream’s teleportation matrix that Winston used to destabilise any of his gifts for Lena still shone brightly in the room, its blue light being the primary light source at such an indecent hour. Winston’s armour and shield generator equipment lay in a small corner, gathering a thin layer of dust. _

_ Their masterpiece was centred between them. It was two rounded cylinders only a few centimetres thick, secured by a leather harness. It was powered off, but when on, should emit an energy that secured any “electrical anomalies” nearby. The device could rest comfortably on Lena’s chest and back. The fabric had been specially synchronised so that both Lena and anyone else could touch it. _

_ “Should we go try it out?” Winston asked, excitement tipping his voice. _

_ “I suppose we should.” Dr Ziegler was smiling enthusiastically as well. _

_ They both made their way to the stabilisation chamber, where Lena was sitting by the windowsill, her legs being gripped firmly in her arms. She didn’t look sad, but she didn’t look particularly happy, either. When she saw Angela and Winston, she smiled cheerily, as though nothing were wrong. _

_ “Lena, mind trying this on for us?” Winston asked her, holding up the harness for her to see. She was curious for an instant; then she seemed to realise what it was for. She jumped up, her smile widening as hope flooded her eyes. She bounded over to them with the patented “Lena” spring of her step, bouncing up and down and Winston helped her put the harness on. _

_ She put the device on quickly, rubbing the leather with her non-corporeal hand. It looked good on her and seemed to be a perfect fit, even if it looked somewhat out of place with her pyjamas she had on. _

_ “Now to power it on…” Winston mumbled, gesturing to Dr Ziegler, who had more grace than his unwieldy gorilla hands. _

_ They waited with baited breath as Angela pushed one of the buttons on the back of the device. It powered on, a blue, gear-like circle, similar to the one in the Big Ben tower in King’s Row, glowed as brightly as the teleportation matrix. _

_ The effect on Lena was immediate. She seemed to wince in pain, yet her smile was unwavering. She held up her hand and watched as it solidified, the background no longer visible behind it. Her smile somehow managed to widen even further when she saw she was back completely. She was still completely silent. Slowly, she hobbled over to the side of the room, her eyes set on one of the many thick cables suspended in the air. Tentatively, she reached out to grasp it. She recoiled in surprise when her hand succeeded in moving it, as she brushed her fingertips along its smooth surface. Winston and Angela watched eagerly as she reached out once more, gripping the cable weakly in her hand. The chord seemed to tremble with her as her body shook like a leaf. _

_ Lena’s eyes were that of wonder, lighting the gloomy room up more than her harness. _

_ “Lena, your wounds have started bleeding!” Mercy warned, noting that blood was seeping through some portions of the girl’s pyjamas, but not enough to be a health risk. _

_ Lena smiled widely and started laughing. It was bright and cheerful and seemed to make the room even brighter and more pleasant. She paid no heed to her wounds as she sang her rejoice. _

_ “Winston! Dr Ziegler! Thank you! Thank you thank you thank you thank you!” It was the first time they’d heard Lena’s voice in a long time. She charged at them in a bright, blue blur. It was faster than anyone should ever be able to move. She collided with them, laughing happily while Winston and Mercy fell to the ground in a heap, with Lena on top of them. _

_ “Woah, Lena! How did you move that quickly?”  Winston asked her, somewhat dazed. _

_ Lena stopped laughing and looked puzzled. “I did? I don’t know. I never moved that fast before!” Lena scrambled up and tapped the harness distractedly. “Well, I feel perfect! I’ve never felt better!” Lena turned to run to the window. Once more, her harness brightened, and she seemed to almost teleport to the window. She let out a shout of surprise. “Woah! You’re right! It’s like everything just turns into a blur, and I can go anywhere!” Lena turned and tried to run back to Winston, the blue blur once more enveloping her, and she abruptly turned and looped around him. “Wow! This thing is awesome! The best thing I’ve ever seen and felt!” _

_ “Incredible! It seems to be simultaneously destabilising and stabilising her instantaneously, allowing her to manipulate her body’s concept of time,” Mercy explained, smiling, yet still perplexed. _

_ “This day just gets better and better!” Lena blinked once more, running in circles around the two of them. “I don’t know how I could ever thank you two! I can’t believe this! You guys need to show me around Gibraltar! For being here a full year, I haven’t really seen much! I have so much I need to say, so little time! I can’t believe I’m finally back! We need to get some food! I’ve missed flying in jets- Ow!” Winston nearly stumbled, trying to keep his eyes on his overjoyed friend, who had tripped. She landed with a thud, her momentum carrying her into a wall. _

_ “Lena! Are you okay?” Mercy insisted, running to check on her patient. “Don’t harm yourself!” _

_ Lena groaned. “Hah… yeah. I’ll be fine. I don’t think anything could ruin this for me! Ow, my leg…” Lena forced herself up, still not having dropped her smile. Suddenly, she gasped, drawing the attention of the two scientists again. Blue light seemed to coat her body like paint. Then, she started moving backwards, her momentum moving in reverse until she was exactly where she had stood a few seconds earlier. She flinched in surprise. “What? My leg… it hurt a few seconds ago! And I moved really weird, though it felt so normal.” _

_ “Lena, did you just rewind your time?” Winston asked rhetorically. “You seemed to move in complete reverse, as though you recalled back to where you were!” _

_ “So I can blink forward and recall back? That’s cool and all, but I’m thrilled just to be able to leave this room! Come on! Can we get a bite to eat from the kitchen? I need some tea, also! Anything but this place!” _

_ “O-okay.” Winston agreed. “Come on; I think we have some teabags still. I’m not sure if it’s the right kind, though.” _

_ “I haven’t eaten in a year! Anything will be fine! Let’s go!” Winston and Mercy struggled to keep up as Lena blinked ahead of them, smiling all the way. _

_ The kitchen was surprisingly well-stocked, with many different foods from many different cultures, probably due to the diverse set of agents in Gibraltar. Many of them shot her odd glances as she sped past them all. Everybody knew about the girl being kept in the chamber, and most of them had seen her every rare once in a while, but this was the first time they’d seen her outside of that room. Naturally, she greeted everyone with a smile and a laugh, speeding through a room, assessing every little detail of it, before running back to Winston and Angela. They followed her through the various rooms until they reached the kitchen, where she did not hesitate to begin making herself some tea, along with a simple peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Angela simply brewed a mug of coffee, and Winston ate straight out of a peanut butter jar. They all sat at a table next to a window, where the sun was just beginning to rise, turning the sky a pale grey. _

_ “So, what do I owe you guys?” Lena asked after several minutes of silence, save the clattering of the teacup and the chewing of her sandwich. _

_ “What ever do you mean?” Mercy asked, surprised. _

_ “Well, I spent a year in that stabilisation chamber, and this harness couldn’t have been cheap. I know I probably can’t cover it all, so I’ll do whatever I need to do to make it up.” _

_ “Oh, you do not need to worry about that,” Angela assured, taking another sip of her coffee. “The malfunction you did not cause was reason enough to get Overwatch to supply money for the chamber, and we were able to receive funding for the study of your harness.” _

_ “Really? Great! So, what is this thing called anyway?” _

_ Winston shrugged. “I’ve been thinking of calling it a chronal accelerator.” _

_ Lena laughed. “Okay, perfect!” They devolved back into silence for several more minutes. “Really, though, I can’t thank you guys enough. Thank you for not giving up on me.” _

_ “It’s not trouble at all,” Winston assured, dipping his finger into the peanut butter jar. _

_ “But it is! You spent a full year trying to fix me up. There were many occasions where I worried you would give up on me. I don’t know what I would’ve done had you done that. I’d probably go insane, honestly,” to both Winston and Mercy’s surprise, she was completely serious. “So really, thank you two so much for helping me.” _

_ Mercy chuckled. But of course. We couldn’t just have you blinking into nothingness for eternity.” _

_ Lena seemed uneasy for a moment, “Right. Nothing. I’d always get sucked into a black void. Not exactly fun, but hey, I’m fine now! Oh! That reminds me. How long of a battery does this thing have?” _

_ It was Winston’s turn to chuckle. “I wouldn’t exactly call it a battery, but it has roughly eighteen hours of power storage, with an energy cell that will not be damaged by overcharging. If it runs out, it taps into a backup supply, but it’ll start beeping warnings at you. We also made a charging station for it. We’ll put it in your room after this.” _

_ “The stabilisation chamber?” _

_ Mercy laughed again. “Of course not! There’s no point in keeping you in there anymore! Truth be told, we’ve had a room prepared for you for a while, but we never had any way to show you. We can move all your things in there tonight, get you some actual clothes tomorrow, and figure out where to go from there the day after.” _

_ “You guys… you spoil me!” Lena began laughing brightly again, yet tears sprung to her eyes once more. “I can’t believe this! I don’t think I’ve ever had a better day in my life!” _

_ It took the three of them a mere ten minutes to collect Lena’s stuff and make their way to her room. Winston had grabbed the charging station, which was fairly bulky, but looked like it could comfortably fit the harness on its prop stand. Angela had helped Lena gather her belongings, which consisted of a large journal, several series of books, some sketchpads and pencils, the tattered Slipstream outfit Lena refused to let anybody dispose of, her books about piloting jets, and the second set of pyjamas. The good doctor led Lena to her room, which was far better than she could have ever hoped. It was fairly large, with pale blue walls, a dark grey nightstand and dresser with a dusty lamp and a digital clock on it, and a queen-sized bed with creamy orange covers. _

_ They put her books and sketchpads away on the nightstand, though Lena set her journal on top of it along with a pen. Winston had set out her charger, which used a powerful European charger to operate. _

_ Lena yawned and relished in the exhausted feeling in her bones. Mercy watched her with a smile. _

_ “Why don’t you get some sleep once you're settled in? Tomorrow we’ll work on getting you things for your room.” _

_ Lena hesitated. “If I take off the chronal accelerator, will I disappear again?” She ran her fingers over the device nervously. _

_ “No, as long as you are near the device, it should keep you here,” Winston explained, eliciting a sigh of relief from Lena. Slowly, she unclamped the straps on her shoulder, and gingerly pulled off the device. Carefully, as though it were a piece of treasure, she set it in the charger. A small, orange light on the charger indicated it was functioning properly. _

_ “Really, Winston, Dr Ziegler, I cannot thank you enough. It’s been so long since I’ve been hungry or tired or in pain. I’ve missed it. Thank you.” _

_ “Of course, Lena. We will see you tomorrow,” Mercy assured. _

_ “Yes, sleep well,” Winston demanded, shuffling out of the room. _

_ For the first time in a year, Lena lied down on a bed, crawled under the warm, secure covers, and slept, easing her mind into a numb state of blissful rest. _

_ … _

That… was a pleasant dream. Lena had grown used to terrible and violent dreams, but that one was surprisingly wonderful. It was a breath of fresh air, so to speak. Even the darkness of the void around her seemed less ominous and foreboding after such an enjoyable experience. It was definitely one of her most cherished memories, something she replayed in her head time and time again whenever something was bothering her. If she needed to be happy, that memory was one of the first things to which she would think back. It reminded her why she wore her smile. It was amazing how easily bad memories stockpile, wearing the person down like lead weights, but all it takes is a few good memories to lift a person back up.

Lena wondered what Mercy and Winston were doing. She hoped it was something that would help them rescue Fareeha soon. Lena could only pray that she was doing alright. In the meantime, tormenting herself with her worries was a useless waste of her time. Instead, she opted to relish in the pleasant feelings lingering behind after her latest dream, in anticipation of her next one.

…

It had been a full day if Fareeha were to guess. The bread they brought her to eat was hard and bland, but she accepted it wordlessly. Widowmaker had the nerve to untie her arm bindings, knowing there was nothing she could do to escape. Now, Fareeha sat on the metal table, her back against the wall.

“You remain so stubborn,” Widowmaker chided, leaning nonchalantly against the wall. “Do you truly believe those cobbled-together-fools from the remains of Overwatch will be enough to find you and release you?”

Fareeha said nothing. Surely, if her mother were alive, she would come to help as well.

“Oh, and if you think sweet old Ana would come to your rescue, then think again. Come now, she’s been alive all this time but did not once make contact with you. Why on earth would she do so now? Join us. I wish to release you from this cell, but we require your complete devotion,” Widowmaker explained, her voice calm and controlled.

“You will not get me to kill my mother.”

“I would rather do this without violence. My coworker is very eager to get his hands on you. You’re much better off agreeing to help.”

“You cannot fool me into doing such a thing.”

“You truly believe your mother is still the hero on the pedestal that nobody can blemish? I thought you were smarter than that, little Fareeha,” she chided, staring absently at her nails, though no care was in her eyes concerning their appearance. “Why on earth would she keep out of the limelight, doing so much hide her survival from even her closest friends? Not to mention all the illegal things she has done. She is considered one of the most valuable outlaws in the world.”

“Pretending that Talon does not do things that are plenty illegal themselves?” Pharah retorted, propping her head up with her arms, which lay flat on the wall.

“She destroyed a factory that manufactured Omnics. She stole technology from Russia that prevented them from defending themselves. She has been seen working with the Junkrat and Roadhog. All that, and many, many more sins were committed by her. You believe her to be a picture of prim, untouchable perfection. She isn’t the idol you wish she were,” Widowmaker continued, her voice sounding somewhat pitiful.

“Do not believe that I will believe such a one-sided story. If she did something like that, there is another side to the argument you are not telling me,” Fareeha countered, closing her eyes as though it were a casual conversation.

“Hmm, clever girl. Very well. She teamed up with those two outlaws to destroy a factory where the Omnics had defective chips that made them controllable by the God Programs, and the technology she stole was originally from the Omnics, given to Russia in secret. What does this new information change, though? She still killed thousands of Omnics being made; she still partnered with international criminals to do it, which, mind you, they only team up for a substantial sum of money, and I doubt she used her own for that; she still stole technology Russia was using for self-defense.

Pharah sighed, turning her gaze to the ceiling. “My mother’s moral compass and mine were always tuned differently. She was doing what she believed to be just. I do not condone her actions, but I can understand them.”

“In other words, nothing I say right now will convince you.” Widowmaker sighed, almost sadly. “My coworker and I had an agreement. If you don’t agree to help us, he is going to try to convince you next, and his methods aren’t quite as painless as mine.”

Fareeha gave a nonchalant shrug. “Never have been good at talking.”

“I am sorry that you feel that way.” With that, she got off the wall, stretching. Then, without any other words, she turned and left the room, leaving Fareeha to wait for her punishment.

…

Winston and Angela had been working tirelessly in the lab, trying to manufacture a new harness. With their limited resources, it was not going well. With the one they were making, Lena would likely not be able to perform her blinks and recalls, and it would burn out after a few days of use. Hopefully, it would be good enough to buy them the time they needed to save Fareeha.

“Winston, two new alerts.” Athena’s voice cut through the room like an alarm, startling them both out of their feverish work.

“Yes, Athena?” Winston asked, carefully removing his glasses to rub his eyes as he just noticed a slight headache.

“Jesse McCree has made it on the premises, and is now waiting for permission to enter.”

“Oh! Let him in!” Angela commanded eagerly, setting down a mess of wiring. She had been working with. Seconds later, the door opened, and a man dressed as a cowboy walked through. He wore spurs and a red poncho, he had a cybernetic arm which held a cigarette, and a pistol was tucked securely in its holster. He wore a large cowboy hat, which seemed to show some wear, but was otherwise in good condition.

“Howdy, Angel. Howdy, Winston.” He greeted in his thick Western accent. “How goes it?”

“Jesse! It is nice to see you again!” Angela ran forward, embracing him in a gentle hug, which caused him to stiffen with surprise.

“Woah there. The Angel I knew never hugged me. Who are ya and what did ya do with my doctor?” He teased good-naturedly, tipping his hat to her. He gazed around the room. “So, are we all that’s answered the call so far?”

“Not really,” Winston began, his good mood dropping. One of us has been kidnapped by Talon, and the other is currently fading through time.”

“Lena? Where’s her harness?”

“Stolen by Talon. We’re going to try to get it back.”

Jesse grew sombre. “And who did they take?”

“Fareeha Amari,” Angela admitted, fiddling with a loose hair.

It was silent for several seconds. The hum of the lights was as loud as a droning alarm.

“…Talon took **WHO**?!” Both Winston and Angela jumped, not expecting such an outburst. “They took the little Spitfire that was Ana Amari’s daughter? How **DARE** they!? I’ll wring all their necks myself, those **Talon scumbags**!”

“We still have no leads as to the whereabouts of her, though,” Winston admitted sadly.

“If I may interrupt,” Athena began in her melodic voice. “The other message may provide some information. It is from Genji Shimada.”

“Really? Read the message, if you please!” McCree nearly shouted.

“Genji, here. I received word from someone trustworthy. Meet me in the arcade near the Shimada property in five days; someone is meeting us soon after. It’s important. Something about Fareeha.” After reciting the message, Athena offered her commentary. “This was sent yesterday, though I had no ample opportunity to tell you.”

“And you have confirmed that it is really from Genji?” Angela asked with a mixture of eagerness and anticipation.

“Yes, Dr Ziegler.”

Jesse jumped at the opportunity. “Well, what are we waitin’ around for? Let’s go already!”

“We’re waiting for Lena to come back. You’re free to wait in her room for her. We’re trying to make a makeshift Chronal Accelerator,” Winston commanded, slightly annoyed. “We’ll head out as soon as this is done and she is back.”

McCree sighed. “Roger that. I’ll be lettin’ ya know as soon as she returns. Lemme get some food from the kitchen, first. Was a long trip.”

Mercy seemed to remember something. “How did you get here anyway?”

“Trade secret, Angel.”

“Nice to see you haven’t changed a bit, Jesse.”

…

“D.va online!” Hana greeted her chat as her Twitch stream went live. Immediately, the viewer count surpassed quadruple digits. Her MEKA was pleasantly cool, with its paint job freshly redone. Her handler’s voice cut through her headset.

“Remember, just try to destroy as many of the outposts for the Sea Omnium as possible. There are several islands for you to set your MEKA down on, just be wary of your fuel supply. The bombs on your suit need to be perfectly dropped, so be wary.”

“I know, I know! You only debriefed my squad and me fifteen times earlier!” Hana snapped, making the chat box explode with “Lols”, “ROFLs,” “XDs,” and various other laughter acronyms.

“Is your stream up and running?” One of her squad mates commed her. It was C6piders, often referred to as either Spiders or Seasick. His voice was determined, yet mildly shaky with nerves, though you wouldn’t be able to tell by just looking at him through his baby blue mech. “Might be nice to have a few thousand people to send an SOS when we end up in a fiery pile of scrap on a beach.”

“Rainbows and sunshine, you are,” Another one of her squad mates, Q-Ball, joked. He was next to her in his black and white mech.

“My bad. Time for the happy times in the fun frolicking fields of battle,” Spiders retorted, some of the nervousness leaving his voice.

Her final squad mate, Asi9, commented in her singsong voice. “Hey, if you’re going down, pick me up some cool seashells!” She was unusually nervous as well, with bombs securely attached to her purple mech.

“Noted. I’ll find a conch shell for you. A nice memento of our happy explosion-fest,” Spiders agreed sarcastically. “Anyway, D.va, we’re ready to move out at your command.”

“Alright, activating thrusters! Let’s head out! You were all pinged the coordinates of the first drop zone.” D.va pushed the ignition buttons, listening to the familiar thrum of the engines. The mech rocketed upward, her squad following closely behind out of the large hangar.

Soon afterwards, a rainbow of other squads took off, splitting into different directions. The sky was overcast, making the ocean look like a grey void prepared to swallow them all up. It was deviously peaceful.

“So, it may be a bit late to be asking this, but what’s the plan?” Q-Ball asked, his voice particularly calm.

Spiders cut in. “Get to the Omnium outposts, blow them sky-high. The usual.”

“So what’s the plan?” Q-Ball reiterated without missing a beat.

“Seasick, Q-Ball, you guys fly on our flanks, watching for Omnics. Asi9, put up your back cams and fly behind me. If anything approaches, blast them out of the sky while staying in formation as often as possible.”

Hana’s stream was beginning to calm down as the hour wore on. Donations continued to funnel into her account, which would be going to MEKA.

“Man, this chat is giving me more ‘are we there yet?’ questions than a toddler on his way to a theme park,” Hana joked to her squad as they flew on.

“Hey, at least you guys get to be excited!” Q-Ball countered good-naturedly. “Seasick looks about ready to piss himself.”

“Hey! What’d I do to deserve that?”” C6piders whined, not really taking any offence. “I can’t help it if I have a weak bladder!” This caused another explosion of laughter in the chat.

“I’ll never understand what’s so funny about piss jokes,” Asi9 admitted, poking fun at the boys, who offered only grunts in response.

“Remember guys, our handlers said this was serious business,” D.va chided jokingly.

“You say that like you give a crap about what they think,” Q-Ball retorted, his mech hiccupping for an instant as he jolted the controls.

“The handlers can hear this conversation you know!” Asi9 not-so-seriously warned, her melodic voice happily chastising her friend.

“You say that like you give a crap about what they think,” Q-Ball repeated, moving his mech in a jolting, bouncing method as he worked the controls.

“Unlike you, I don’t plan on getting lectured by them. I’m long overdue for another livestream. Any chance I can get a host on that, D.va?” Asi9’s purple mech arched gracefully, moving in fluid motions as she worked the thruster, wary of the explosives on the suit.

“Of course, of course. I owe you for keeping my chat entertained.” At that comment, the chat filled with comments of people being either insulted or amused, to which D.va only replied by typing her signature ;) into the box.

“Hate to ruin the fun, but we’re coming in on the coordinates, and things aren’t looking too hot. The general chats are blowing up,” Q-Ball admitted sadly, referring to the special chat clients all MEKA pilots had.

At once, the other three pilots opened their channels to see, much to their dismay, that many of the gamers were struggling. Several were sending out an SOS, to which extraction crews were already working on. A few had admitted that their mechs were going down, offering horrid farewells to their crews before abruptly switching to offline mode. Feeling slightly sick, D.va shut her chat client off, causing her chat to surge again with messages of pity.

“Hey, Omnics from the left!” Q-Ball shouted, all of his joking personality having evaporated. Flying towards them was perhaps a half-dozen Omnic fighters, which looked like small fighter jets, but without a cockpit. A large Gatling gun was stationed on each of them, which began firing immediately.

“Shift thrusters sideways, turn to engage! Q, Spider, fire up the defence matrix! We’ll take them down!” D.va commanded instantly, rotating the mech, so it was flying sideways. The rest of her squad followed suit.

“Roger! Routeing power to forward barrier!” Spider called as green projections of light shielded D.va and Asi9.

The familiar booming of the clips unloading filled the air. Acting on reflex, D.va began to fire back, aiming for the wings of the fighters. Simultaneously, tiny lasers reached out and evaporated the bullets with a small hiss.

“It won’t work! The jets are too far!” Asi9 admitted through grit teeth. “Our ammunition is too widespread for them!”

“That’s okay, just hold them off until we can drop the explosives! Then we’ll engage! We’re almost there!”

Unfortunately, three of the six jets broke off from the others, swooping above group onto their other side, firing from there.

“I gotta turn to deflect! Q, You’re on your own with those three!” Seasick shouted, turning to evaporate the other bullets.

“Roger! How long until the drop zone?”

“Almost… almost…” D.va muttered, focused on trying to enforce the jets to keep their distance. “Asi9, now! Drop load one!” The response was immediate. Several small cylinders fell into the infinite abyss of the ocean. Several seconds later, the group heard several resounding booms as the ocean seemed to twist and distort with the explosion.

“Alright, focus on defending me!” D.va told asinine, who immediately broke off to help Q-Ball deal with the jets. She dipped beneath them, activating her thrusters as she fired into their underbellies.

“My bullets aren’t affecting them! We may as well be using pea-shooters!” She screeched as she continued to pelt the bottoms of the jets.

“Aim for the guns, then!”

“Roger that!” With that, Asi9 expertly rolled out from beneath them, firing her guns at one of the jets, which only seemed to be slightly annoyed, turning the gun to face her. She let out a small shout as the booming of the gun began. Quickly, D.va turned her defence matrix to her friend, easily deleting all the bullets.

“Thanks, D.va! I got this one!” Powering up the thruster, she launched her mech to the jet, crashing directly into the gun. It fell off with sparks flying throughout the sky, the twisting of metal clearly audible. The jet teetered and careened towards the ground. “Alright, that’s one… two… one of the jets is gone! Where did it go?”

“Couldn’t tell you.” Q- shouted through grit teeth, the stress audible in his voice. “It just dropped down. I kinda have my hands full, though, with this one here! Go help Spider!”

Asi9 flew over to Spider’s side, where he had remained completely silent and concentrated, assisting him by powering on her defence matrix while D.va continued to fly.

D.va counted to three in her head. On three, she released the second pouch of bombs, watching as they fell into the watery depths. A fountain of metal scraps and parts awaited them when the bombs went off.

“One more! Oh no!” D.va shouted in horror. “The other jet! It’s below me!”

“On it! You take this jet!” Q-Ball shifted his defence matrix to the jet below D.va, which was moving in complex dips and rolls.  D.va took over the defence matrix for the other jet, which was strafing around sporadically.

“Crap! D.va! This one was hiding a second gun!” Q-Ball warned as D.va felt something pop off of her mech. Much to her dismay, it was the final bag of bombs, as they tumbled into the grey void.

“The bombs are gone! We’re almost to the third drop zone, though! Just hang on!” At this point, D.va spun her mech around to charge at one of the jets on Spiders. She knocked off it’s Gatling gun, then charged above them, grabbing their attention and causing them to fire at D.va.

“Alright! Defense Matrix’s down! Everyone dive-bomb! On the count of five, Spiders and I will self-destruct! Spider, make it go upwards! I’ll go into the ocean! Catch us, you guys!”

“Are you insane?” Q-Ball shouted fearfully, already preparing to follow her orders.

“Yes, now do it!” With that, Spiders charged his mech directly up, with the other jets following him. Q-Ball followed him after several second’s count. D.va charged directly down, with Asi9 following her closely.

“Let’s blow this joint up!” Spider’s battle cry echoed through their headsets as his mech lit of brilliantly, ejecting him in the process. He free fell for several seconds, before being caught by Q-Ball, who dove towards the ground to escape the blast. The explosion was incredible, shaking them to their core. However, the mech suit was specially designed to let the power source explode while causing minimal damage to the armour. However, the Omnics were not. They immediately splintered and exploded, their scraps falling into the abyss below.

Now it was D.va’s turn. “Activating self-destruct sequence! See you guys in a minute!” she shouted to her Twitch, just before hitting the waters. She was launched from her mech, with Asi9 immediately catching her in the awkward arms of the suit. They watched with baited breath. Suddenly, an explosion of scrap metal told them that their plan had worked.

It was silent for several seconds. “So that is that,” Q-Ball remarked emotionlessly. Let’s get back to the Game Cave. Can you guys call your mechs back?”

D.va and Spider both pressed the recall buttons on their suits. C6pider’s mech appeared first, its baby blue parts that had been specially made reconfigured and connected, forming the mech as it made a beeline for a distant island, which would take roughly ten minutes to reach. Soon after, D.va’s mech followed.

“Detour time!” Asi9 called, following the robots with D.va, Q-Ball and Seasick trailing close behind. They used the few seconds of solitude from the Twitch stream to allow themselves some relative quiet. D.va had to hold her headphones on as the wind tried to yank them off. She had the human decency to leave her mic flipped up so as to prevent killing her squad’s ears. She still couldn’t help but agree with Q-Ball, though.

“I can’t believe that worked. Good Lord, this job is the worst. I can’t wait to get back to the Game Cave and relax. I haven’t been this tense since my first mission.”

“You say that every mission!” Asi9 argued in an attempt to keep the mood up. “Regardless, look alive. We’ll be live soon.”

They reached the mechs, which Hana got in without complaint, despite the seat being soggy and the controls loose and mildly unresponsive.

“Ready guys? Going Live in 3… 2… 1… D.va online!” D.va greeted her chat with a wave. Well, it worked! We’re heading back for some R&R!”

The flight back took a couple of hours, during which D.va had signed off for good. When the quad landed, they each helped themselves out of the mechs, stretching their sore muscles. Asi9’s long, red hair was frizzy and tangled, with her purple and gold suit showing some signs of mild bloodstains.

 C6pider’s scruffy, blue-dyed hair seemed to need another coating, as it had lost some of its shine, though aside from that, he seemed alright. Q-Ball’s suit was covered in sweat, and his black, long hair was in desperate need of a wash, but he didn’t appear to be bothered by it. Wordlessly, the group ignored the congratulations from their handlers as their mechs were taken away for maintenance. D.va led her group to the Game Cave, which was a huge living room equipped with dozens of TVs, Computers, and other gaming systems that were all in perfect condition, thanks to the tender care of all the professional gamers. D.va noted with dismay that only two or three other squads were back, some of them missing members. Despite this, the few people that were there stood up and cheered as their group walked in and took their seats on the soft couches.

“I can’t believe we actually survived that. I can’t believe they so greatly improved the Omnic drones,” Q-Ball commented as he leant against the arm of the leather couch.

“We won, at least. Can’t complain,” Spider commented, fiddling with his messy hair. “Blowing up the mechs was genius, D.va. Plus, it gives our handlers something to be annoyed by. I can’t really complain about that, either.” He grinned cheekily.

“I agree. Thanks for getting us out alive once more, Commander,” Asi9 thanked graciously, bags showing under her eyes.

“Come on, none of that ‘commander’ bull. I’m just worried about next time, or the time after that. I don’t know how much longer we can hold this together,” she confided, her voice low.

“Hey, don’t worry. We’ll figure something out,” Q-Ball assured, turning to look at another group that had walked through the door. They seemed to be missing a person, their faces were solemn, and they had several cuts and gashes, though they seemed to be hanging in there. Everyone cheered.

The next two hours were filled with delighted cheers. Every time a new group walked in, everyone would cheer. It was something of a tradition between the MEKA pilots. Some squads arrived battered and missing most of their squad, but everyone still cheered for those who had returned.

Tonight, they would grieve for those who they lost, with every streamer there hosting D.va’s as they counted and mourned the deaths.


	7. Reunion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is unfortunately the final chapter that I have on stockpile, meaning I may have to shift my updates to be less frequent. I apologize in advanced, but my schedule will likely become far less consistent from here out. I hope you can forgive me. Regardless, enjoy chapter seven.

If there was one thing that Lena did not expect to see when she blinked back into her room, it was Jesse. He was sitting on the bed horizontally, with his back against the wall. His hat loped lazily to the side, and he wasn’t wearing the armoured chest plate he often wore even around the base.

“Nice to see ya back in the land of the livin’” he commented nonchalantly as soon as she returned, blinking onto her bed right next to him. Caught off guard, she smiled widely, lurching off the bed to dive for him. Naturally, she only succeeded in phasing right through him.

She face-palmed in a ditzy manner that said “oops”, but still beamed at him, awkwardly standing up and shuffling her feet. He gave her a concerned look but said nothing.

You look well, all things considered,” he said with a stifled laugh. “I mean, you look beat up as hell, but I’ve definitely seen you in worse conditions.”

Lena lifted an eyebrow and gave a silent laugh. His eyes softened a bit.

“Ah, shoot. I know ya probably don’t want pity, but dangit if it isn’t hard. I’m not exactly skilled when it comes to being all sympathetic-like. Hard to know how I should treat ya, y’know?” he admitted almost shyly. Tipping his hat down slightly. He rubbed a speck of dirt off his poncho, causing it to fall onto Lena’s bed, though neither of them particularly cared.

“Anyway, darlin’ you should probably be gettin’ to the lab. Winston and Angel have been working their tails off trying to make you a temporary harness. I think they’re almost done. Then we gotta go meet Genji. He said he’s got info on Fareeha.”

Lena jumped up, trying to look cross. “You waited for me?” she tried to mouth, only for McCree to shake his head in confusion.

“Come on. Let’s go meet him already. We don’t want you fadin’ again.” After a few moments silence, while they began to walk, he added, “It’s nice to finally see ya again. Haven’t really spoken with ya since our last Blackwatch mission together.” Lena pursed her lips, remembering the time she was posted with Blackwatch in an attempt to stop a small group of Talon agents from dropping a bomb on a city. They had several hostages, and were prepared to kill them should Blackwatch have interfered. In the end, it had taken Lena blinking in, taking a bullet for one of the hostages, blinked out while holding them, then recalling to heal herself, to give Commander Morrison and McCree a chance to get in there.

“I know you’re not really a member of Blackwatch, but you certainly have what it takes,” he earnestly complemented as they walked. “Whether or not that’s a good thing, I’ll leave up for interpretation,” he admitted at last. “I know ya weren’t a fan of our methods. Specifically, the interrogations. Can’t say I understood why you hated it as much as ya did, at the time.”

Lena sighed and used her hands to gesture to her ghostly form.

He gazed at her pensively for a few seconds. Realisation seemed to dawn on him. “Oh. So that is it.”

She nodded sadly.

“Isolation was always the best method to make someone confess. Deprive them of happy sensations and whatnot. Reward ‘em for fessing up. I suppose I should have been a bit more bothered by it, but I’m not as nice as you are.”

Lena laughed again. That was the most ironic thing of all.

“I mean, I probably should’ve seen it sooner. I was one of the few that knew you before that harness was made, right? Didn’t have much better to do between missions. Gabriel always told me to practice my aim. Pfft. Says the man who was partial to shotguns. Anyway, the way you were always lookin’ out that window of yours, I don’t know how I didn’t see it sooner. You had the same look in your eyes as the people we were ‘interrogating.’ Kinda obvious now that I think about it. I mean, you smiled and such, which is more than I can say for quite a few people. I never really thought about it, though. I’d seen that look hundreds of times, but it took me until thinkin’ through things in your room. Sorry for popping in unwelcome, by the way,” he tacked on, knowing neither of them cared.

“I’m not too good with the touchy-feely stuff. Never have been. But it really is good to see ya again. I’m sorry for not exactly… understandin’ how ya felt.”

Lena shrugged, waving with a smile to tell him his apology was accepted.

“Heh, like I said, you’re too nice. I am sorry, but if Blackwatch is ever cobbled back together, then odds are, I’d have to get back into the interrogations,” he admitted, almost shyly. “Wouldn’t mind if you played the good cop, though. Them folks you gave those little gifts to confessed the quickest. Amazing what a chocolate bar or a game of cards can do for someone.”

Lena nodded. She had always made an effort to sneak things to the prisoners. It wasn’t to make the confess, though. She just didn’t like the idea of people going through the things she had, be it in the chamber or her dreams. It was a bit of a morbid conversation, but it beat talking about Chronal Disassociation.

“Ah! Lena! Just in time! We have a new harness for you!” Winston greeted cheerfully as McCree opened the door Lena had just walked directly into. “It’s nowhere near as good as the original, but it should do until we get the real one back!” Angela was sitting in an uncomfortable looking chair, slumped down and asleep. Winston was not looking much better, though he was still functioning, at least.

The new harness looked similar to her old one, but the leather and straps looked slightly less comfortable, and the metal wasn’t quite as shiny, but other than that, it looked good. Lena lit up like a Christmas tree, bounding over to her friend, who prepared to put it on her.

“Now, this one will likely only last a few days before burning out. We’ll need to get your regular one back by then. You also won’t be able to perform your blinks or recalls, so be wary.”

Lena nodded happily and reached out of the leather, only to find it was not destabilised.

“Ah, yes, I didn’t have a way to make this like your other clothes, sorry. If it dies, it’ll just fall off of you.

Lena nodded absently, gesturing for Winston to hurry up and activate it. After a few second’s struggle, he managed to press a button that made the device project a dim blue gear.

Lena wheezed as pain flooded her. She groaned, collapsing to the ground. She let out a breathless laugh.

“Thanks, Winston! It works great!” she continued through gritted teeth. “I forgot I had these injuries, though!” Her broken ribs, hurt back, and damaged legs and arms protested to any movement, her head was pounding as well.

“Uh, Angel? A little help?” McCree almost shouted, waking the doctor up instantly as Tracer curled onto the floor, laughing and crying at the same time.

“What? What’s going on?” She awoke with a start, her speech slightly slurred. “Oh! Lena!” she declared in a sudden panic, before regaining her composure. “I will retrieve my staff immediately! Jesse! Make sure she isn’t bleeding.”

“Uh, yes ma’am.” He stutters, somewhat in shock.

Two minutes later, Mercy was back with her staff, allowing the healing beam to flood over Lena, easing her pain.

“We’ll need to perform surgery. Winston, carry her to the med bay,” Angela commanded as Winston gingerly cupped his friend in his meaty arms. Lena laughed.

“This feels great! Thank you so much again, Winston!”

Winston said nothing as he focused on carrying her as quickly yet gently as he could manage.

Lena’s hearing grew dull and her vision dark as Mercy pricked her with something on the way there. She fell asleep in seconds.

When Lena woke up, the first thing she noticed was how great she felt. Her chest still hurt, and her limbs were sore, but it was such a welcome feeling. The second thing she noticed was that she was on an aiplane based off the familiar thrum of the engine, and the vibration of the ground below her.

She sat up with a groan.

“You doin’ okay there?” Jesse asked her, startling her as she snapped her eyes open. They were in the large mission airplane, with several monitors in the front, a hologram map of the globe near the large doors, and several seats that resembled that of a roller coaster’s that nobody ever used past their first few missions.

Lena was currently lying on a mattress that someone must have brought with them, as an IV drip pumped some sort of liquid into her arm. She panicked for an instant, feeling her chest for her harness. Her fingers closed on air, and she whipped her head to Jesse, who gestured with his unlit cigar to the device, which was propped on the table a few feet away. She sighed in relief.

“I feel great,” Lena admitted, flopping back onto the mattress, rubbing its patterned surface with her fingers, feeling all the threads between her nails.

“I think you have low standards for great, then,” he joked to her, taking off his cowboy hat as he fiddled with it idly, leaning back against one of the seats, but not sitting in it. His eyes followed her gaze casually, though there was a layer of concern beneath it.

“That tends to be the deal when you feel nothing at all for a while,” she retorted, snorting. “Pain feels like the touch of an angel.”

They were silent for a minute. “I still think it was stupid that you got picked for that Slipstream flight. If you could undo it, would you?”

Lena jumped, startled at the question. “Well, I was selected for the program based solely on merit. It was a huge honour.”

“You’re avoiding the question,” he chuckled. “This ain’t my first time at the rodeo.”

“If I hadn’t been selected for the flight, then someone else would have been chosen instead. I wouldn’t wish my condition on my worst enemy.”

“Even someone like Widowmaker?” he asked, not in a joking way. He was more puzzled. “Seems like a decent way to put them bad guys out of commission.”

“No! I would never ever want anybody to have to deal with this!”

“Deal with what?” he pressed, clearly knowing she wasn’t speaking of the intangibility. His voice was gentle yet firm at the same time, similar to a brother questioning their sister about something.

“Did you read my diary?” she asked in a hushed voice, covering her eyes with her hand.

“Just the page it was left open at.”

“That’s an invasion of privacy,” she muttered, her heart not in it.

“We all read it,” came another, nervous voice from the cockpit area. Winston shuffled down the stairs and stopped in front of Lena, sitting himself down semi-comfortably. “Lena, I’m sorry, but we all knew you were secretive. I- we had to know what you were hiding. We couldn’t help you otherwise…” they all knew how lame of an excuse it was. Jesse and Winston waited with baited breath for Lena to yell at them.

“Yeah, I figured you would,” she mumbled in a hushed voice, unnaturally quiet, rolling over on the mattress, awkwardly pinning her arm under her with the IV drip in it. “So, any questions?”

“Why did you hide the dreams?” Winston began warily.

“So I didn’t worry you guys.” Lena offered no other explanation.

“What other things have you dreamt up?” Jesse asks in a raised voice.

“I think I have dreams about people I met or will meet. Or things I will go through-slash-have gone through.”

“Such as?” Winston was growing more anxious but persisted in his questions.

“Well, at one point I was Jesse during his time in the Deadlock gang, right as Gabriel picked him up. I had that dream a few days before I met him,” Lena bowed her head in shame, despite knowing she did nothing wrong.

Jesse visibly tensed and locked his jaw. “What else?” He was clearly looking to change the topic.

“I’ve been Amélie Lacroix as she was kidnapped and brainwashed, it was weird, coming back to my senses so suddenly. One minute, I was her, completely in her newly formed mindset, them I’m back being myself. It took me a minute to… uh… decide where my loyalties actually did lie.” Both Winston and McCree looked mortified. Jesse was pale, and Winston had frozen in place.

“Though, recently I’ve been reliving the stuff I went through with the Slipstream, crash and all. Winston, I was you for a while after the crash. I’m so sorry! I never meant to worry you so much!” Lena declared suddenly, startling him. “It wasn’t your fault; I don’t blame you!”

“So you really and truly become the person when you fade?” Jesse asked, at a loss for words, obviously thinking about her comment concerning Deadlock.

“Sometimes. Sometimes I’m still… there, as in I can think for myself, but I’m like a puppet, not in control of my own actions. I can still hear the person’s thoughts, though.” Lena looked away, not daring to meet their eyes.

Lena could swear even the engines of the ship went silent as her friends soaked in this information.

It was silent for several minutes.

Lena only rolled back over, letting her arm drop off the mattress as the IV drip continued pumping the liquid into her.

Lena wondered idly what was in it. Was it a painkiller? Most likely. Surely she would be fine without it. Whatever was in there could not be the reason she was alive.

“You… heard our thoughts?” Winston asked in a hushed whisper.

“You read the diary,” she casually replied, fiddling with the chord. “It’s not like I had much of a choice in the matter.

“…How much did you see of me in the Deadlock?” Jesse asked stiffly.

“Just about everything you don’t want me to have. I wasn’t conscious at the time, so your memories all made perfect sense and I had the context-“ Lena realized she was babbling. “Long story short, I’ve known about a substantial number of things you’ve done.” Lena could have sworn she heard him mumble something under his breath.

“So now that we’ve had that lovely walk down memory lane, where are we going, and did you bring my uniform and pistols?”

McCree shot her a look that said: “We’ll talk about this later.” That was fine. Later was not now, and Lena was not feeling up for talking about it now.

“Yes, w-we brought one of your uniforms and pistol sets. They’re in the cubby,” Winston stuttered, gesturing with one of his bulky hands. Sure enough, one of her battle uniforms was neatly folded, with a spare of her gauntlets that kept her pistols concealed in them, ready to be flipped out at the press of a small switch.

“Can I take this IV drip off?” she asked, already gripping the needle to tear out.

“It’s a painkiller; I don’t think you should. We still have a few hours for you to heal,” Winston suggested, beginning to pace nervously around the room.

With a sly grin, Lena tore out the IV drip and struggled to her feet, holding out a hand in the “stop” gesture when Jesse scrambled to help her.

“I’ve felt worse,” Lena commented ironically, causing them both to cease in their attempts to help. Her legs were still sore, but she was able to reach her outfit and take it to the small, cramped bathroom on the ship. She quickly changed, pulling o the familiar skin-tight and orange leggings that read “Tracer” on them. Her jacket was styled to look similar to that of a pilot’s, with her Tracer icon and the UK flag on either shoulder and her goggles, which she pinned to her face, tinted the world orange. Sure, if she couldn’t blink, she probably didn’t need the goggles, but that wouldn’t stop her. It was a relief to finally be Tracer again. Quickly slipping on the comfortable yet secure slip-on shoes, she bound out of the room, ignoring the throbbing in her legs, arms, back, and basically everywhere. The pain was far more manageable now.

“L-Lena, I have a favor to ask,” Winston began as though he were about to ask for her arm. “Angela has been flying us for hours, and has had minimal sleep. Would you be okay with taking over? I’m not exactly good at maneuvering the tiny handles, and the day I let Jesse fly a plane is the day Hell freezes over.”

McCree shrugged. “Fair.”

“Is that all, Love? Sure thing!” Tracer declared, forcing down her unease. She had to fly a ship? She hadn’t piloted anything since the Slipstream. It’s not that she couldn’t but what if something went wrong? What if her body, which was being stabilized by the harness, caused some sort of reaction with the plane and caused it to crash? Or worse, what if it emitted some kind of signal that destabilized everyone on board-“ Tracer stopped and took a deep breath. She was being silly. Nothing was going to happen like that; they would be okay. “Leave it to me! Quick question, though! Where are we going?”

Jesse chuckled. “We’re heading to the Shimada property in Hanamura. More specifically, the arcade ‘round those parts. I think I saw it on a map once, I’ll show ya-“

“That’s okay, I know where it is!” Tracer declared happily, already bounding over the controls, slipping on her gloves and checking to make sure her harness is not too far so she would not fade.

“Really? Did Genji tell ya?” McCree asks, surprised.

“Nope! I saw it in his head. Dreams, remember?” she admitted with slight unease, to which both McCree and Winston blink, not sure about what to say to that. Winston looks simultaneously pensive and antsy, probably thinking back to what she wrote about that particular dream in her diary. Jesse idly chewed on the back of his cigar which he was forbidden to light while in the ship.

“Cheers, I got this!” Tracer bound over to the controls, ignoring the pit in her stomach. Sure enough, at the controls, Angela was firmly seated, her posture perfect as she controlled the ship. Her expression, though, was completely blank, as though she were not present mentally.

“Doc, go get some rest,” Tracer commanded, gently putting her hand on Angela’s shoulder, who seemed to jump back to reality.

“No, no, I am quite alright,” she assured, though her voice was raspy and tired.

“Go get some sleep! I’ve already rested up, thanks to your operation!” Tracer assured with a laugh.

Mercy nodded breathlessly, her eyes swivelling around to the rest of the ship, where Winston was awkwardly sitting on the floor. McCree was leaning back in the small; blue had his feet kicked u on the table with his hat tipped down as he tried to sleep. Or pretended to. One of the two.

Mercy helped herself off the seat, stumbling slightly as she made her way down the stairs. How long had it been since she got a substantial amount of sleep? No matter! They had a professional pilot ready to take over the controls! I mean, it was a professional pilot that was desynchronized from the flow of time after crashing a jet… but still!

Lena plopped herself in the seat, checking all the functions of the plane to make sure Mercy hadn’t missed anything. The control sticks were simplistic compared to some of the dogfighting jets she has used in her piloting days. She gripped the controls in her hands. They seemed to tremble in her hands. Or was that Tracer that was trembling? She gritted her teeth and checked the coordinates. Perfect. They should be at Hanamura in six hours or so. That was decent.

The sky outside was like fire, intermingling shades of red, orange, yellow, and pink as the sun behind them began to trail upward. The fire reminded her of one of her fights during the Omnic crisis, where there had been three or four jets chasing her. They were on all sides. She had nosedives, spinning the ship around and firing into the wings of the other ships. It had worked, and they had exploded into bursts of smoky flames, consuming the jets and whoever had been inside.

Tracer shook her head wildly. No need to dwell on the past! She did that enough without her harness! She chuckled at her own lame wit and focused on keeping the ship steady. It had been her form of meditation back when she flew. Don’t think about anything except the thrum of the engine, the distance until arrival, and the stability of the control sticks. That was what she did when she first flew in any jet, even if it was just for a short while. That’s what she did in the Slipstream.

Tracer’s breath grew ragged. The Slipstream. Why did it crash, anyway? Winston said it was a malfunction he could re-engineer, but what he had to do to cause it was so specific that it couldn’t have happened on its own. Did Lena cause the crash? Did she do something that made it malfunction? What if she made that same mistake here?

Stop it, Tracer! She was being ridiculous! That was not going to happen! They were not in a dogfight. The jet was not trying to teleport. They would not crash. Lena took a deep breath, forcing herself to relax. She realised she had been clenching her jaw the whole time, and her palms were sweaty beneath her gloves, and she was still trembling. She took another deep breath. She would be fine. She just needed to calm down.

Tracer took a deep breath. Take it easy. She could do that.

…

“What a shame that you refuse to work with us,” croaked a raspy voice that Pharah refused to acknowledge. “I was hoping we could work out a mutual friendship.” The Reaper mused, spitting the word “friendship” like it was tipped with acid.

Pharah stared blankly at the plain wall as Reaper crept around the room. He was in the same outfit as seen in the security footage, with the skeleton mask concealing any hints of his identity. His steps were fluid, almost too much so, and completely silent.

“How about another offer, then?” Much to Pharah’s morbid relief, he pulled something out of his jacket. It was a small, silver knife. “You tell me something about how Overwatch is going. Maybe how many people have been coming back, or what you were doing at the lockup. You do that, and this little toy of mine goes away.” He twirled the knife in between the odd claws he had on his fingers deftly.

Pharah remained silent.

“No? What a shame. I’m sure I can change your mind on this, though.” Flipping the knife over, he ran the blunt edge of it over Fareeha’s cheek, the cool metal chilling her to the bone. Then, he turned the blade on her.

Fareeha slammed her eyes shut, biting her tongue. She knew it would come to this. Part of her was relieved. If Reaper was resorting to pain, he was admitting that he couldn’t change her mind otherwise. It meant she was stronger than him.

Fareeha held onto this thought like a lifeline, chanting it in her head over and over again as the blade sliced through her cheek like butter, and a steady stream of blood began to trail down her jaw, staining the otherwise spotless white floor a deep crimson.

It felt like hours, but it must have only been a few seconds until Reaper pulled the blade back to admire his handiwork. The once pristine knife was now a deep scarlet, not even reflecting light anymore.

“Keep in mind; you can end this at any time by cooperating.” Reaper did not sound like he cared. He was enjoying this. That was fine. Pharah would not humour him with words. The pain would not dissuade her.

“I see you intend on being stubborn.  Too bad.” Pharah could almost hear his crooked smirk.

He trailed over her arm with the blade, drawing a thin line of blood as he travelled to her hand, which she had clenched in a fist. Using the claws on his hand, he pried her fist apart, holding her hand open as he traced the folds in her flesh, lining up the blade. Then the chilly blade turned to fire as he began to cut deeper.

Pharah bit the inside of her lip and began chanting in her head. “I am stronger. I am stronger. I am stronger.”

It was true. It had to be. There was no other choice.

…

Jack couldn’t help but be jittery and nervous as he and Ana crept through the urban area of Hanamura, the moon shining overhead as the abandoned streets seemed to glow due to the excess of lit up signs posted on the buildings. It was officially the fifth day: the day Jack promised Genji they would be there.

“I can’t even describe how stupid this is, going into an arcade of all things,” Jack complained, his visor tinting the world a deep crimson.

“It’s the closest to the Shimada property, and who would check an arcade for two outlaws? Besides, I need revenge against one of those rigged claw machines,” Ana teased, easily keeping up with his brisk pace.

“How do I let you talk me into these things?”

“By succumbing to my charm and sparkling personality. Besides, you get antsy if you don’t get to do something life-risking for more than a week.”

“I’d object to that if you weren’t right.”

“Wouldn’t you always?”

“Someone’s got to keep you in check.”

“Aw, but that’s no fun.”

They continued their lighthearted banter as they passed scores of restaurants and shops, all their neon signs switched off in the late hours of the night. The arcade was only a few blocks away. It wouldn’t be long now. Soon, everyone would know that Jack Morrison and Ana Amari live.

They fell into a hushed silence as the freakish green monster in the spaceship became visible, a gaudy statue on the building opposite to the arcade. Everything seemed to be undisturbed until Jack noted that the door to the arcade was ever-so-slightly cracked open, something no employee worth their salt would ever leave in that state.

They knew they would be the last ones to arrive. That was their plan. The last thing they needed was to linger in a city where their faces were plastered on every wanted poster in the area. What they weren’t expecting was the surprising quantity of members already accumulated. For the recall having gone out a few precious days ago, having some of the best agents respond so quickly was decent.

Jack watched Ana’s face closely as they carefully entered the building. None of the games were active, save a lone claw machine in the back of the room that a certain cybernetic ninja was absently playing, with a cheerful British agent cheering him on as he maneuvered the claw to catch a plush in an attempt to catch one of the stuffed prizes. Genji and Tracer, two of the deadliest agents, tearing up the backlines of any enemy.

 Jesse McCree, in the flesh, was lighting a cigar, the warm glow of the lighter and pungent odour surrounding him. He was leaning against one of the cabinets with no regard for the smoke alarms. His outfit was the same one he’d been wearing on his Blackwatch mission, and his face, while showing more age, was largely unchanged. Next to him was a weary Angela Ziegler, who was wearing her Valkyrie suit, watching him with a dismayed look, likely due to the cigar that he was taking great pleasure in smoking in front of her. She looked completely identical to several years ago, as though she had not aged a day.

The final agent present was Winston, the gorilla that had joined the team after the disaster in the Lunar base. He was watching the group passively and was the first one to notice Jack and Ana entering the room.

“C-Captain Amari!” He gasped, causing the room to fall dead silent. Jesse’s smouldering cigar fell to the floor, turning the white tile it fell on an ugly shade of grey. Winston was as still as a statue, Angela was in shock, her hands slowly lifting to her mouth. Oddly enough, Tracer only smiled joyously, not seeming to be too surprised.

“It is wonderful to see you again, Captain Amari, Commander Morrison,” Genji greeted courteously with a small bow. There was the second bomb dropped.

“J-Jack?! Ana?! Is it really you?” Tears had formed in Angela’s eyes, trailing down her unblemished face.

Jesse slowly removed his hat, holding it close to his heart. “I’ll be darned… y’all are alive?”

Jack grunted, pressing the release on his visor, which pulled away to reveal his scarred face. The facts hit home. They remained silent. He clicked it back into place after a few seconds, mentally sighing in relief as the world returned to its familiar red tint.

“How come you never contacted us? Why did you just… let us think you were gone? I was at your funeral… Reinhardt, Torby, we all were… at both of yours… and you just… you’ve been alive the whole time…” Angela took a single, raspy breath, then another, this one smoother and calmer. “We will need to discuss this later.”

“Gladly, Angela, but for now, we need to focus on rescuing my daughter,” Ana agreed, changing the topic quickly. “Genji, why did you not tell them it was us?”

The cyborg only let out a metallic chuckle. “It was more fun this way.” Jack rolled his eyes behind his mask. Ana laughed heartily.

“It is good to be back among you,” Ana admitted. “Unfortunately, pleasantries will need to wait. We need to save Fareeha. Genji, have you found the information we requested?”

“Yes commander,” he replied curtly. “Your suspicions were correct. The remains of the Shimada Clan have in fact joined forces with Talon, expanding the underground empire. The nearest base of operations they are actively working at is a few miles from here: a research facility.”

“Wonderful. We shall head there immediately. You all are here to help?”

Everybody nodded with various degrees of enthusiasm. Winston piped up, still shocked from earlier. “I was planning to stay behind on the ship to knock out any cameras possible, along with the fact that I am not subtle in any way.”

Jack nodded. “That’ll do, then. Where is the dropship? We need to leave immediately?” And just like that, Jack Morrison was back to leading Overwatch.

…

Fareeha’s fists were clenched, but she wasn’t sure if this made the pain better or worse. She refused to look at her mangled arms and hands, which were sticky with blood. Her head was swimming, and her vision was blurry.

However, there was a small part of her that was pleased. She was resisting. She would survive. They would not break her. The pain was horrible, but she could handle it. If it got worse, she would need to handle that. That’s all there was to it. If she died, then she would still be the one coming out victorious.

The door opened. Already? It had only been a couple of hours since Reaper’s visit. Fareeha didn’t even have time to sleep.

To her surprise, it was Widowmaker. Her hair was in its normal ponytail, and she wore the same styled suit as last time, though it was more of a crimson colour. In her hands, she carried a small tray of food. Perhaps she was here to taunt Fareeha. That was fine too.

Slowly, she walked over and released Fareeha’s arm bindings. Confusion echoed through her mind. Then Widowmaker handed her a cool, damp towel, gesturing wordlessly to her wounds. Why was she being kind? Pharah didn’t understand. It was all wrong. Warily, Pharah pushed herself up, using the wall as support for her sore and stiff back. It cracked in a satisfying manner as she stretched it out for the first time in hours.

Pharah warily ran the towel over her arm, biting her tongue at the sting from the injuries. Her arm had various, trailing cuts extending down to her wrist. Her hand itself was in a horrid state, with blood smearing over the hand completely, disguising the actual location and appearance of the cuts themselves. She hissed quietly as she cleaned her hands, the sting of the towel almost as bad as the actual knife.

Most of her wounds’ bleeding had stifled, leaving ugly red marks, several of which would likely scar.

When Fareeha was finished cleaning her wounds, Widowmaker took the towel back with little regard for the blood on it, setting the tray gently down on Fareeha’s lap. There was a glass of water, a sandwich, an unopened packet of potato chips, and a small pudding cup.

“The food is not poisoned or anything of the likes,” Widowmaker informed, reflecting Pharah’s hesitation. To prove this, she picked up the sandwich and took a bite out of the corner without hesitation, handing it back to Pharah while chewing quietly.

Pharah began to eat, slowly at first, but speeding up with every bite, savouring the meal. IT was finished all too soon, but Fareeha kept her expression neutral.

“Why are you giving me this?” She finally asked after Widowmaker was preparing to leave with the tray.

“You need food. Without the towel, your cuts would get infected. You would die prematurely in that instance. It is foolish that the boss here believes that these small commodities should not be given to you,” Widowmaker explained with a snort.

“You are acting against him?”

“Yes, I am. I would appreciate you not mentioning this meal to anyone, at least if you want another one.”

Pharah nodded distractedly. “I do not see why you would view me as a subject worthy enough to treat with such caution towards my life.”

Widowmaker chuckled dryly. “That’s not why. I am simply curious.”

Pharah’s eyes narrowed. “Curious about what?”

Widowmaker gestured to the arm bindings. “I suggest you let me put those back on you, lest you want your punishment to be worse,” she commanded without answering the question. Pharah begrudgingly complied, letting her arms be pinned back down to the table. Then, Widowmaker turned and began to leave, offering one, closing statement.

“I’m curious to see if you will last longer than I did. My personal record is yet to be beaten by anyone.”

With that, the door shut behind her, leaving Fareeha to wait for Reaper.

This was the schedule for five long, painful days. Five days of waking up to Reaper with his knife, waiting for a meal from Widowmaker, and then sleeping. Hope in a rescue began to ebb. She held onto a hope of freedom as much as she could. It was her only chance at remaining sane. She would not, under any circumstances, give up. She would let herself be killed before she gave Reaper the satisfaction of victory. This promise did not wane. She only hoped she could hold onto her sanity long enough for a rescue to come, be it from Angela, Winston, even her mother. Any small shred of evidence that she was not abandoned. That was all she needed. Just a tiny shred of hope. She could only wait until she received that lifeline.

 


	8. Shimada

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys! I'm sorry, but this is officially the part where any and all schedule goes out the window as I upload whenever I want!

The first thing that clued Fareeha into the invasion was Reaper's very noticeable absence. He had not come to try and "persuade" her for what must have been sixteen hours at least. It was odd, as he had always had a fairly consistent schedule when coming to her cell. However, the second hint was Widowmaker's also noticeable absence. Was this another one of their methods? To isolate her? If it were, it would be insufficient. Fareeha's greatest pride, at the moment, was in the fact that she was holding out. They were not able to break her.

But this was odd. Something felt off about the whole thing. The entire time Pharah had been here, Reaper had used nothing more than a knife. Based off of what she had learned of Talon, surely there would have been something more trying than basic pain. Pain could break many, without a doubt, yet they would've undoubtedly concluded after so many days that their methods would not work as they wished.

Why then? Why employ faulty methods? Fareeha knew they hoped to convert her to join Talon, but an organisation such as them would surely function with far more efficiency. The entire time, she could not shake the incessant nagging that something was off: that Fareeha was missing some critical detail in Talon's overall plans. Why? Why were they intentionally failing in their brainwashing attempts?

Pharah resisted the urge to lick her dry lips, as her throat burned with thirst. While Widowmaker had brought her water, it was the bare minimum needed to keep her alive. Hardly enough to leave her quenched. She instead opted to close her eyes and listen to the steady buzz of the light above her.

Then she heard something. At least, she thought she did. It was hard to tell if she only imagined it- a figment of her imagination.

Then she heard it again. It was small and distant- a pin dropping could be more clearly heard. But it was unmistakable. She heard a gunshot. Refusing to let her hopes get up, she closed her eyes and listened again, and the sounds changed.

Now, she heard the whine of an alarm. The nearest siren was nowhere near her room, but it buzzed and in rapid succession. If her hunch was correct, Overwatch was here to rescue her.

Pharah refused to look at herself. She could feel the various long, smooth cuts across her body. Some of them were dull, having long since scabbed up. Some Were sharp and harsh- the fresher ones Reaper inflicted. Then there were the cuts he had dragged that knife over repeatedly, never allowing it to scab. Those were the cuts that felt like red-hot wires were forced into her flesh.

Admittedly she looked like "a sight for sore eyes," if that was how the English expression went. That was no matter. She could endure pain. The humiliation of being in such a sorry state would likely hurt more. But Overwatch was here. She was being saved. Everything would be alright.

…

Tracer watched Genji warily as they sneaked through the marketplace. There were not very many people at such an indecent hour, and many of the signs were off even in the typically busy area. The team selected to free Pharah included Genji, Tracer, Commander Morrison, and Captain Amari. Jesse, Winston, and Dr Ziegler opted to stay behind on this ship to keep the group small.

Of the group, the only member not lit up like a Christmas tree was the captain, though they all knew how to remain hidden from sight despite their bright accessories. Genji had green lights covering his cyborg body, Commander Morrison still had his mask, and Tracer had a big, shiny trinket-slash-target on her chest and back. Many of the agents back in Overwatch's hay day questioned how she and Genji managed to sneak up on anyone. It was an art.

Nonetheless, Tracer knew Genji well enough to know he was extremely bothered by something. The group was able to walk on the side of the road thanks to the slow hours, so she made sure she stood by him. His movements were stiff and snappy, simultaneously in a rush and taking his time. She watched him with a worried expression, which, if he did notice, he didn't show for several minutes.

They walked in relative silence, a few feet ahead of Captain Amari and Commander Morrison, who haven't spoken a word aside from the occasional orders.

"You did not seem surprised to see them," Genji admitted eventually, his voice hushed. "Nobody else expected them to be alive, except for you."

Tracer chuckled, surprising him. "I have my reasons. What about you? Did you know they were alive?" No need to bring up her dreams here. They were unimportant.

Genji laughed weakly, the sound tinny and robotic through his visor. "You think Commander Morrison would know how to roll over and die? Captain Amari came as a mild surprise, though I had my doubts about her 'death' as well," he admitted.

Tracer had the feeling the two soldiers behind them were listening in, based off how their steps suddenly seemed too quiet, as though they wanted their presence forgotten. Genji turned to her, perplexed. "Truly, though. How was it you knew about their survival?"

Tracer thought for a moment. This was Genji she was talking to- one of her closest friends- One of her only friends after the crash. He would visit her often, and share his troubles and worries with her. She would always listen, thrilled to have someone who would treat her like a human. In that regard, they had been very similar. Genji had lost most of his human body, and Lena was little more than a science experiment. It created an instant sense of "not being alone." They both knew this. Lena sighed. She gestured to her harness.

"You know when I fade, and I go to that horrible void?"

Genji nodded calmly. "Yes. I believe you instructed me to not tell anyone that you were conscious when in such a state."

"Mm-hmm," Tracer hummed in affirmation. "That's not the full story, though. The secret has been spreading like wildfire, so I may as well tell you. I sometimes dream, when I go there."

Genji didn't show a reaction. "What kind of dreams?"

"Like memories or events. I go to different times and become different people, only being conscious some of the time, but having no control over my movements."

"May I have an example?"

Tracer gulped. Should she tell him? It would be only fair to tell him. "Like when your brother tried to kill you."

Genji stumbled for an instant, catching his balance shortly after. Tracer flinched, expecting him to say something. He didn't. He remained silent, waiting for her to continue.

"I wasn't conscious in that dream, so I felt, heard, saw, and even thought as you did. The way your brother used his sword to summon a blue dragon and attack you with it… that about sums up most of my dreams."

Genji hummed pensively, fiddling with his visor. "And the general opinion afterwards is people feeling as though their privacy was violated? I can see why you would not share this information."

Tracer laughed weakly. "It never really was my business. I just didn't have a choice."

"True," Genji agreed after a moment. He looked her over, his gaze fixed on her temporary harness. "Have you dreamt recently?"

Tracer paused, surprised at how quickly he dropped the topic of his past with his brother.

"Yeah," Tracer admitted, looking away. This condition seems intent on making me relive the Slipstream crash, the time when Winston found me, stuff like that." She waved her hand as if to say "Don't worry about it."

"I see. Do you wish to talk about it?"

"Now's really not the time," Tracer defended, gesturing to the ominous building that was growing nearer. "I'm more worried about you. How are you doing, knowing the Shimada clan has been active?"

"I had believed them to be gone without the leadership of my brother. It appears I was wrong. Talon seems to be a totally acceptable leader to them."

"We'll just have to take 'em down again, then!" Tracer assured, assessing the building. It definitely screamed "lab," only having a few windows with no signs or advertisements for their business, though it did not look particularly sinister.

Genji chuckled softly. "They're really falling into those old television tropes, what with the secret base in a lab."

"Not exactly subtle," Tracer agreed with a giggle. Nonetheless, when they closed in on the building, they both immediately quieted and backed up to be in line with the two commanders, who seemed more amused at their talking than anything else. However, the moment that building came into view, everyone grew completely serious.

"Genji, do you think you can shut off the alarm system when we enter?" Commander Morrison requested curtly, his mask giving no indication of whether he was looking at the building or Genji.

"I am very familiar with their ways of security, and stopping it should not be difficult."

The building's main doors were locked, to nobody's surprise. Genji wasted no time locating a nearby window, and forcing it open with brute strength. Tracer prepared herself for the blare of an alarm that never came. She blinked at Genji, who chuckled.

"The Shimada clan has not changed their security software in the slightest, I see. Without waiting for them, he grabbed onto the top of the window and vaulted through it, landing silently on the other side. The captain and commander did the same, Lena following suit. There was still a distinct lack of alarms, which was good.

"I recall learning of this facility, back when I was still a member of the clan. They have a hidden emblem that unlocks the elevator near here," Genji elaborated as he strode through the strangely ordinary reception centre. There were few windows still, but there was a pale green sofa across from a television, with flashy magazines sloppily covering the table. The receptionist desk was exactly what one would expect, pale and uninteresting to everyone except Genji.

Genji crept behind the desk, his steps nearly silent as he fumbled with a few of the books and papers behind the counter as everyone watched in fascination.

"Here." Genji gestured to something hidden under the monitor that he had lifted up. It was a button, about the size of a fist, engraved into the wood of the desk. It had the logo on it that the Shimada clan was known for; something Tracer remembered from her dreams. The two dragons spiralled around each other as Genji inspected the logo, finally pressing down on a small protruding part of one of the dragons. The entire logo began to glow green and blue as Genji sat the monitor back down. "Come," he declared without fanfare. The captain and commander followed without hesitation; their rifles were both loaded and ready to fire at a moment's notice. Tracer opted to leave her pistols in her gauntlets. She could pull them out in less than a second anyway.

Genji seemed far more sombre as he led the group to an elevator. It was relatively unsuspecting aside from the glowing green button at the bottom. "That doesn't seem very subtle," Captain Amari commented as Genji pressed the button, causing the doors to shut as the elevator began its descent, which took far longer than it should.

"The button will not illuminate unless the switch is triggered, and it only works at night. Regardless, be on your guard. There are no cameras in the elevator, but things will be much more dangerous the moment they open. Maintain stealth."

"Any chance you know where the hell we are going?" Commander Morrison asked offhandedly, almost nonchalant as he gripped his pulse rifle firmly.

"I do not know the layout of the facility. However, it would be best for us to not travel in a group of four. Splitting into groups of two would be wiser, given our two objectives."

The commander nodded. "You and Ana will search for Fareeha, then. Tracer and I will find the Raptora suit and the chronal accelerator."

Ana nodded, her eyes trained on the door as the quiet hum of the elevator shaft echoed through the small room. In hindsight, if anyone found them, they would have absolutely no way to get out if they shut off the elevator. Oh, well. The best solution would be to not get caught!

The doors opened with an echoing ding. And immediately their cover was blown as two guards, dressed in mostly black, stared at them, slightly confused. Their expressions changed from confusion to surprise in a matter of seconds as one of them fumbled with a radio com, struggling to turn it on as it clumsily tumbled through his fingers.

A second later, both these men were on the floor, yet very much so alive. Tracer whipped her head to Ana, who was holding a smaller gun that looked to shoot darts. A tranquillizer gun. Handy!

"Well, that'll make things easier!" Tracer declared, barely above a whisper. Just like that, they were in enemy territory. The underground area was surprisingly vast, with the main room that the elevator had opened up to being decorated with darker shades of grey and purple, with cold concrete flooring making each footstep echo in the uninviting structure. Many of the walls were carved out rocks, reminiscent of Watchpoint: Gibraltar. The room itself boasted no more than a few tables and HoloVids, most of which were displaying the Talon or Shimada logos. Several men were lazily sitting with friends, drinking, eating, with some even sleeping.

Thinking quickly, Commander Morrison and Genji promptly hid the two soldiers behind a metal cargo crate, as they took shelter themselves.

With no more than a nod, the two groups split up, with Tracer following the commander. He was fast, for someone who didn't specialise in that particular area, she would give him that. He deftly wove his way through mounds of crates, support beams, and other large objects, knowing exactly how to hide the conspicuous glow of his visor that seemed to allow him proper sight. Thankfully, this wasn't Tracer's first time at the rodeo, either. She sprinted after him, careful to keep her footsteps quiet, which her shoes were especially good at doing. Nobody noticed her as she hunkered down behind a crate, waiting for her opportunity to sprint to the next hiding spot: one that could hide her, and the glow of her harness.

The trouble arose when they both ducked into hallways. They were mostly straight and narrow, with little cover if someone were to walk down the winding walkways. Wordlessly, the duo silenced their steps, running to the next turn they would take, looking for signs that might lead them where they need to go. As they reached a corner, the commander ducked his head around to make sure nobody was nearby while his superior hearing alerted him of any nearby people going down the paths. Tracer diligently stayed at the other end of the hall, carefully listening for footsteps of someone else so they could not get the jump on her. This process continued for a solid fifteen minutes, with Commander Morrison occasionally knocking someone unconscious with the side of his rifle. Tracer, luckily, did not need to do this at any point, though she was more than prepared to do so should the need arise.

The rhythm was hypnotic. Reach a corner, run to meet the commander, watch for agents, hide their unconscious bodies, run to catch up with Commander, rinse, repeat. Any anxiety she had before the mission began was forgotten as she ran, every foreign footstep sending spikes of adrenaline through her veins. It wasn't until the commander stopped mid-hallway that Tracer snapped to attention and sprinted to meet him, her shoes squeaking softly against the floor in her haste.

The doorway was labelled "laboratory." Tracer took one look at the plain door to realise getting in would be tricky. It would require a key card, which would set off alarms if they broke. Tracer watched Morrison intently stare through his visor at the lock, all the possible outcomes seeming to cross through his mind in a matter of seconds.

He turned to her, his red visor hiding his emotions as he spoke to her in an all-business voice. "Kid, you ready for this? We need to get in, find your harness and the Raptora suit, and get out. Think you'd be able to wear the suit?"

Tracer blinked, not sure she heard correctly. "Wear a Raptora suit? I mean, I doubt I'd be able to use any of its primary functions, my harness might damage it, and it'd be nowhere close to my size."

He hardly missed a beat. "So that's a yes?"

Tracer grinned. "Of course!"

"Good. We're going in now, then. Back away." Tracer did as he said, hurrying to the other side of the corridor as he pointed his gun at the door. There was an echoing "bang" as some sort of rockets shot from the rifle, destroying the door in a matter of seconds. It wasn't a second later that alarms began to whine, melting the previously tense-yet-somber feeling into all-out adrenaline as Tracer burst through the door faster than the commander ever could've as she immediately searched the room. Morrison diligently watched the doorway while she looked.

The room was a mess. It had a giant purple robot with yellow triangle eyes that seemed deactivated and dismantled, a pale grey wall with a pastel purple tile, a bright magenta chair with all kinds of tools hanging from robotic arms. A long, winding desk sat to the left of the room, with maroon stools matching the other long chair. The monitor had several windows open, with a dull pink glow to it. A lime green HoloVid was on the wall with other random notes, and binders and wires littered the rest of the desk. There was even an emergency ladder, despite having no practical use, stored in a labelled, bright red box. It felt like something out of a videogame.

The Raptora suit was visible almost instantly, having been dumped haphazardly on the floor. It was a pristine, deep blue with hints of yellow. It had no obvious damage aside from old battle damage. Tracer ignored it for the moment, rushing over to something much more important. Sitting on an extra desk to the right was her chronal accelerator. There were very few parts around it, as though it had been given the seat of honour. She rushed over to it, inspecting it carefully.

All sorts of red flags were raised at what she saw. Not only was her harness intact, but it was also in perfect condition. That shouldn't be possible. Her harness was barely functional when it was stolen. Now, it looked like it had just been polished! Why? Who fixed it? Something felt off about it all, but that would be a problem for a later day, Tracer decided firmly.

She tested it out, flipping it over as she located the hidden power switch as it hummed to life. The little gauge told her it was fully charged as well. There was a little nagging voice in her head telling her this was wrong. Her harness should not be charged. It should not be fixed. Something was off about it all.

She didn't have time to care as footsteps drowned out her thoughts like thunder would hide a whisper. Without thinking, she took off the substitute harness, pulled out her pistols, and pulled the trigger as the clip unloaded into it, utterly destroying the device Winston had toiled for hours over. He would understand. They couldn't risk leaving it intact. Tracer left her harness on the table, running over to the Raptora suit. She quickly struggled into the gear as best she could, though every part was a few inches too big and made it awkward to wear. The metal brushed and scraped awkwardly against her as she put the helmet on, which activated the suit.

With the suit now active, Tracer bolted over to her harness, quickly loosening the straps and throwing it over the suit. It hung down haphazardly and was clearly not a fit, but it would do for now.

The commander regarded her with a nod as she tossed her gauntlets to him, which he caught easily, loosening and slipping them onto his arms for the time-being. He made sure to hand her a pistol, though. They were having a lovely weapon mix-and-match day today!

An onslaught of soldiers greeted them as they began to run down the hallways. At least a dozen of them. Good. Tracer needed a way to vent. She grabbed her pistol, letting it whir to life as she activated the rocket jump. (even if that was a complete accident) The ceiling met her head in no time flat as the ground dropped away beneath her. Picking it up quickly, the hover activated as she flew overhead several of the hordes of Talon members, dispatching them all deftly with her pistol while the commander finished off a few behind her. The hover continued as they ran out the hall and began to head for the elevator, though she was less than steady as she was eased to the ground. She wasn't used to being able to move places without the use of her legs, unless it was a jet, of course. Though being moved without her will was no foreign concept. She wobbled unsteadily until her feet were gently placed on the concrete. She booked it, careful to not accidentally activate her harness. A laugh bubbled to her throat as uncanny mirth filled her. Maybe it was the adrenaline. Either way, she couldn't help but have fun as she grew accustomed to wearing the bulky suit, periodically rocketing to the ceiling only to float back down. What else was there to do but laugh when being forced to kill dozens of soldiers? Soldiers with families, most likely. Tracer shook her head. No need to focus on that. Time to concentrate on the group ahead of her! This time, she angled her body down, performing a dive just before activating the booster. She laughed heartily as she barreled into the unsuspecting ground, toppling to the ground on a massive pile of Talon members, most of which were either stuck or unconscious.

Commander Morrison caught up to her quickly. "You know, sometimes I wonder why I ever let you have a gun." He mocked disbelief as they continued to run. Tracer hoped it was going this well for Genji and the captain.

…

Captain Amari sneaked down the twisting corridors, trusting that Genji was following her. He was skilled at what he did, after all. Ana trusted her intuition. And the signs above. There was one in particular labelled "prison cells" in which Ana would wager they could find Fareeha. She developed tunnel vision on her one goal: rescue her daughter. Gabriel was going to pay for what he did to Fareeha, whatever that might be.

Instincts were the only thing fueling her as she automatically sleep-darted any human she came across, while Genji would drop down and incapacitate any Omnic before disappearing again. Ana wasn't sure how long it had been when alarms began to ring. Alarms Ana and Genji doubted they tripped.

Ana muttered under her breath, half hoping Genji heard her. "Of course you would set the alarms off, Jack… Genji, remind me to kill him when we get out of here with my daughter." If he heard her, he made no sign of such. Nobody seemed to be coming for them, so she could only hope that Jack and Agent Oxton were alright. Although, Jack wouldn't know to die if he was hit by a train. Agent Oxton did always have a certain determination about her as well. They would be fine.

The hallway of prison cells was not what Ana expected, though she's not sure what that was. Perhaps a cold, damp environment with grey walls and filthy floors. However, the entire place was astonishingly sterile, with white crowding her vision. The only place not the same shade of white was the ceiling, which sported dozens of horizontal beams and vents for Genji to run across without detection.

Which one of these held Fareeha? Ana couldn't tell. Behind any of these doors could be her daughter. Her daughter chained and bloodied and bruised.

Ana shook her head. She would dwell on this after she could assess Fareeha's injuries. That would come after she found Fareeha.

The first sign of trouble came when heavy footsteps clattered against the floor. Soldiers. A few of them. Nothing they couldn't handle. Ana rounded a corner, and a cluster of thirty soldiers met her, each with varying degrees of bewilderment on their face.

She could take this group easily.

The entire group of soldiers boasted handguns. Varying models of pistols. Nowhere near the quality of Jesse's Peacekeeper. Ana began the fight, pulling a small canister from her belt and throwing it at the horde. It exploded with a huge bang! The soldiers taking the brunt of her biotic grenade cried out in agony, a few already falling to the ground. In their panic, Ana ran to confront them. Her rifle screeched its battle cries as she shot each one, with precision accuracy despite not using the scope. Ana grunted as a bullet grazed her arm, drawing blood as she whirled to face her attacker. He blanched as her gun collided with his face, distorting his nose horribly. He stumbled backwards moaning in agony as he fell against the wall, clutching his face.

Ana twirled around, jamming the not-so-friendly end of her gun into another soldier, who slumped before she could even pull the trigger, already admitting defeat.

Ana put him out of his misery.

She didn't notice Genji was here until one of the soldiers attacking her fell over unexpectedly, a shuriken poking out from his neck. Ana threw down another one of her biotic grenades as it splashed against another bumbling horde of incompetent lackeys. Meanwhile, Genji was quite distracted with a moderate sized group, when he uttered the age-old phrase. "I need healing!"

Ana rolled her eyes, backhanding a soldier who attempted to sneak up on her, knocking him out cold.

With a small push of a button, her scope activated as she homed in on the cyborg. His body was metallic. She would need to hit him in a soft spot: one that led to his bloodstream. Her rifle gave a satisfying crack as she pulled the trigger, the small healing dart injecting its golden contents through the fold of Genji's elbow joints and into his bloodstream. Any injuries he might have sustained mended themselves as he continued to jump and spin and kick his way through the horde.

Then it was over. The majority of the soldiers were on the cusp of death, a few already there. Only a few were not at risk of dying, and the one Ana had broken the nose of was the only one conscious, but he looked like he'd rather not be. He wore a mask covering his eyes, but Ana didn't doubt there was fear behind it. She grabbed his black shirt, picking him up with astonishing ease.

"Where is Fareeha?" It was a simple question. She didn't need him trembling like a newborn at it. Her voice was cold and calm.

His voice rasped, full of fear. "I-I-I don't know!"

Ana didn't buy it. With a severe sounding crash, she threw the man against the wall, still maintaining her tight grip, knocking the wind out of him. "You'd better figure out fast. Fareeha Amari. She has a tattoo under her eye, similar to mine."

He paused before responding. "I-I-I d-don't- "

"Lies!" Ana screeched, throwing him against the wall again. He let out a loud "Oomph" as she did so. Ana glared at him, moving her face in so that they were only a few inches away. "Now where. Is. My daughter?"

He trembled violently in her grasp. "C-cell thirteen…" he finally admitted, dropping his head.

"Thank you, dearie," Ana expressed sweetly, firing a sleep dart into his neck. He was out in seconds. Ana dropped him to the floor unceremoniously and ran down the corridor as the numbers of the cells steadily increased. From somewhere above her, she heard Genji.

"Remind me to not do anything to make Fareeha, and by extension you, angry," He admitted, fear and awe lining his voice.

Ana paid him no heed. Cell eight. Cell nine. Cell Ten. Cell eleven. Cell Twelve. And skidded to a halt as she reached the cell labelled "Cell 13." Its metal door was locked, with a HoloVid panel shining next to it, sporting the Shimada logo. No issue. Ana stepped aside, gesturing for Genji to deal with the door, given he had experience with this kind of tech.

Genji jumped down and typed various things into the panel while Ana watched in nervous anticipation. Her daughter was behind that door if that guard hadn't lied to her. How would she react? Hostility, most likely. That was okay. Ana would be happy to just see her daughter again.

The door opened.

Ana gasped. It was a gasp of horror, elation, rage, and sorrow, as Fareeha's eyes met Ana's. She was bound to a metal platform, barely able to lift her head. The stench of dried blood overpowered Ana, making her dizzy. And yet, Fareeha seemed at peace.

Fareeha smiled, almost casually. "Hello, Mother. It has been a long time."

"Yes. Yes, it has been, my darling Fareeha. We have much to catch up on."

"Indeed. However, that might need to wait. Perhaps over some tea."

Ana smiled. "Nothing would make me happier, Daughter. But first, how about we attack an underground villain organisation together?"

"And here I thought it couldn't get any better than tea."


	9. Dreams

  
It was fun, using Fareeha’s rocket jump to take out the guards attacking Tracer and the commander. It almost came as a disappointment when they rounded the corner to the elevator and nearly ran into Captain Amari and her daughter. Tracer skidded to a halt, nearly falling over as the armour rattled in protest. The alarms were still screaming, yet there was a noticeable lack of guards. That made things easier for them!  
The woman Tracer could only assume was Fareeha was following the Captain, completely calm and collected, yet the mistreatment Talon put her through was still evident. The tank top she was wearing was stained red, and horrid gashes and cuts trailed down the arms and legs of her otherwise fit body. She seemed astonishingly unbothered by this as her head repeatedly whipped around, watching for guards.  
“Way to set off the alarm!” Captain Amari scolded to Morrison, though her voice was full of affection.  
“Sorry, things were too quiet for my taste,” he admitted almost playfully, turning to Fareeha. “It’s been a long time, kid. How has it been?”  
Fareeha, startled to be addressed, answered curtly. “It has been wonderful, now that you guys are back.”  
Tracer cut in, still wearing Fareeha’s armour. “Nice to meetcha, Fareeha! Though, not to break up this emotional moment, but where is Genji?” Ana chuckled, pointing up. Tracer followed where she was looking, and bust out laughing. Genji was holding himself up in the corner of the ceiling, his arm wrapped around one of the support beams. He waved a salute nonchalantly, still watching for guards that were yet to come.  
Fareeha recognised her voice almost instantly. “Tracer,” she announced reverently. “It is an honour to meet you.”  
Tracer beamed behind the visor. “Same to you! It’s a shame I didn’t transfer to the Swiss base until after you left! At least we get to meet here, though! I take it you want your suit back, though?”  
Fareeha nodded, grinning with astonishing cheer. “That would be preferable, yes. There should be a release trigger in the helmet.” Tracer nodded, pulling off the helmet, pressing a switch on the inside. The individual mechanisms came unlocked; the armour fell apart into individual limbs, dropping the chronal accelerator with it onto the ground.  
Tracer hurried to grab it, throwing it over herself and adjusting it deftly while Pharah did the same.  
“Oh, sorry if my harness messed with the systems a bit! It doesn’t like electronics!” Tracer hastily apologised as she turned on the suit.  
“It is no problem. I can fix any issues quickly. Thank you for retrieving it. I am glad to see you found your harness as well. In perfect condition, no less?”  
Tracer nodded, testing out one of her blinks. Sure enough, her time sped up, and she was several feet away from the group in the blink of an eye. “Yeah! It was all fixed up for me when we got there! Maybe they were planning on using it themselves! Bet they didn’t know it wouldn’t work for them!” Tracer giggled in relief. It was wonderful having her harness back, and with no need for repairs to boot! It was almost too easy!  
Commander Morrison finally piped up, swinging his rifle over his shoulder. “Hate to break it to you, but we really need to get out of here. There will be plenty of time for celebration later.”  
The elevator stood before them, nothing malicious about it. Curious, Tracer blinked over and pressed the up button. Within seconds, the door opened.  
“Wait,” the commander grunted before she could run in. “We need to climb the shaft. They probably will turn off the elevator.”  
“Hold the door open,” Fareeha ordered. Without hesitation, her mother used her foot to keep the doors from sliding shut. A panel on the side of her suit opened, and a missile of all things fired out of it, blowing up the roof the elevator with an explosion of debris. There was astonishingly little damage, beyond the walls being scorched. The roof of the elevator had been thoroughly destroyed, however, as the dust cleared, a hole in the ceiling revealed a means to climb the elevator shaft.  
Tracer whined. “Aw, we could at least see if it still works before climbing!”  
“The odds of that are slim to none,” the commander retorted with a snort behind his mask. Genji shook his head with a laugh, ninja-ing his way into the elevator, pressing the button to take it to the top. He gestured for everyone to get on. Not wanting to be left behind, Tracer hurried on with the group in tow. Against all elevator began its ascent, steadily climbing upward despite the damage and despite Talon likely having the ability to deactivate it. Once again that feeling of wrongness set Tracer on edge. Surely there should be more resistance. Or maybe none of the Talon authorities were here! Yeah! That must be it!  
The elevator rose in an uneasy silence, while someone waited for something to go wrong. Nothing did. Soon enough, the doors opened, revealing the lobby from which they entered.  
“Something’s wrong. Be on guard,” the captain commanded, dutifully walking in front of Pharah despite not having the better armour. So, it wasn’t just Tracer feeling uneasy. Dang. That must mean something was wrong.  
It was when Tracer exited the building through the window, and a bullet pierced her arm, that she knew what that something was. Tracer screeched as loud bang was followed by the searing pain in her right shoulder, just below the harness strap. She shuddered, allowing the chronal energy that was always fighting for her body to take hold of her for a few seconds as she was yanked backwards in time. The recall ended quickly, as she found herself just outside the window, no bullet in her arm. She shouted for her team.  
“Sniper up top! Watch out!”  
She heard Morrison curse. “Tracer, try to figure that out before getting shot!”  
“Boo, that’s no fun!” She joked with a laugh, as Genji began jumping and flipping up the walls to find their attacker. Pharah activated her booster, sticking close to the building to try and remain inconspicuous. With a giggle, she used her blink to jump from ledge to ledge, taking her to the roof of the building. It was a plain, white roof. Nothing on it. Genji was likely nearby. After waiting for a tense moment for her harness to prepare itself for another recall, Tracer casually blinked to another rooftop, staying around the area until she found Widowmaker.  
“Ah, hello there, Tracer.” Widowmaker taunted, sitting casually on the edge of the building, rubbing a red smudge on her rifle. “I see you’ve retrieved your little trinket.” She didn’t even turn to look at Tracer as she spoke. “Such a shame. Talon could put that device to good use. Perhaps you’d like to offer us your services?” It was such a nonchalant way of asking such a ludicrous question.  
“Are you crazy? Never in a million years!” Tracer blinked up to the purple assassin, flipping out one of her pistols and rapidly unloading one of the energy clips. Her foe was ready for that, already having ducked out of the way, using her grappling hook to launch herself to another rooftop. Tracer grunted, blinking in a straight line to reach her. She screeched as a cold, burning pain erupted in her arm, and she was pretty sure she saw red.  
She couldn’t risk a recall. Tracer landed heavily on the rooftop, stumbling as she partly crashed into the stairwell entrance. Widowmaker was on top of the small building, sitting cross-legged with a sweet expression on her face. “Even if you rewind time, you still make the same mistakes. I find it amazing that you never learn.”  
Tracer grunted, flipping her pistol back into her right gauntlet. As the hand quickly went numb.  
“Talon could help you, though. That little life-support device could be turned into an unparalleled strength if you let us help.” She seemed almost bored as she continued working furiously on the little red smudge.  
“I don’t need any help! Clearly, Talon removed rational thinking when they stole your emotions!” Tracer taunted with an uneasy laugh. Life-support. She never thought of her harness that way. Life support. It was true, she supposed. She shook her head, blinking out of the way of a casual sniper shot if such a thing existed. Widowmaker seemed to be putting little effort into her shots. Out of the corner of her eye, Tracer saw a shuriken whizz by, which the sniper ducked out of the way from, still not having moved from her perch.  
“Looks like it’s time to go. My offer still stands. I’m sure you could find us if you tried. Now, Adieu, chérie.” With those familiar words that Tracer loathed, she launched her grappling hook, letting herself fall off the building. She seemed to be gone the next instant.  
Genji vaulted himself up next to her, landing with his hand softly touching the concrete roof. Tracer simply stared with a perplexed expression.  
“That was… weird.”  
“You can say that again. I didn’t hear much, but something is definitely off.”  
Fareeha landed on the roof as well, though with slightly less grace, stumbling slightly as her legs threatened to give out. Genji hurried to catch her, offering himself as support, which she begrudgingly accepted.  
“We should get you to the ship!” Tracer declared after a few seconds of silence. “Dr Ziegler will go mad if she learns that we didn’t get you back quickly!”  
“I am fine; there is no need to rush.” Her stumbling as she tried to get off Genji’s shoulder said otherwise, now that the adrenaline was wearing off. “They did not do much, beyond cutting my arms and legs and leaving me without much food and water. I will be fine.”  
Genji tilted his head to the side; no doubt confused behind his visor. “That is all? I am surprised to hear that, given the Shimada Clan and Talon’s track-record regarding this type of thing.”  
“Are you complaining?” Tracer joked, bouncing from foot-to-foot as they spoke.  
“Of course I am not. It is just unnerving and peculiar.”  
“I am fine, rest assured. For now, we should get back. I need a bottle of water,” Fareeha assured, jumping off the building and letting herself hover to the ground. Tracer bobbed her head a bit and blinked across the rooftops to reach the ship, with Genji following close behind. She couldn’t help but turn and look back to where the Talon agent had been. What had been going through her head?

…

Tracer visited Fareeha as soon as she was allowed to do so, which was the day after they had made it back to Gibraltar (with Tracer thankfully not needing to pilot them there). She was in the kitchen, munching idly on some candy pieces when an exhausted Dr Ziegler stumbled in, heading straight for the coffee machine.  
“Heya, Doc!” Tracer greeted cheerfully, causing her to jump in surprise.  
“Oh, Lena! How are you feeling?” She returned the greeting, trying to hide the exhaustion in her voice. She turned on the machine as it started to brew, frowning when she saw what Tracer was eating.  
“Candy is bad for you, Lena. You need to choose a better snack.”  
Tracer giggled, spinning one of the candies on the cool metal table before popping it into her mouth. “You know I need more calories than most!”  
“You need more nourishment in general. This means more of a healthy, balanced diet. Not junk food.”  
Tracer rolled her eyes, blinking over to the pantry, grabbing a box of chocolate chip and peanut butter granola bars. She blinked back to her seat, the kitchen blurring by as she plopped the box down and began to eat them. She waved one in front of the doctor. “Better?”  
She sighed. “Yes, those will do for now, though you should see about getting some more vegetables in your diet.”  
“I will. I will! Calm down!”  
The coffee machine began to hum as it poured the mug out for the doctor, who grabbed it the instant the last drop was poured, sipping it as she sat down next to Lena.  
“Lena, I need to talk to you about something, and I think you know what that is.”  
Tracer casually bit into the granola bars, rolling a chocolate chip around her mouth. “What about it?”  
“You’ve been dreaming, and have not told us?”  
“It was never important.”  
“We both know you’re lying.” Angela just sounded tired.  
“I’m not. It’s not important. It’s over now. There’s no point in bringing it up.”  
“Your mental health seems like a perfectly acceptable reason.”  
Tracer shuffled in her seat. “I’m fine now, trust me. If I need to talk about it, though, I’ll come to you first.”  
Dr Ziegler sighed, relenting. “Very well. That reminds me, Winston wants to take a look at your harness as soon as possible.”  
Tracer tipped her head. “It works fine, though.”  
“Yes, but Talon repaired it. There could be something in it that they changed or did not fix.”  
Tracer hummed thoughtfully. “It was weird how they had it just lying around like that. I’ll do that. First, can I go visit Fareeha?”  
Angela looked nervous. “I would not advise going alone.”  
“What, why?”  
“We do not know if Talon brainwashed her.”  
“But she seemed just fine!” Tracer pushed, pulling one more granola bar out of the box, fiddling with it as she spoke.  
“We thought the same thing with Gérard’s wife.”  
“What? You think they want Fareeha to kill her mother?”  
“I would not dismiss the possibility.” She stared at the black coffee in front of her, taking another small sip.  
Tracer rolled her eyes. “You guys are full of it. She’s fine! Now, I’m going to see her! You’ll see that nothing is wrong with her soon!”  
“I hope so.”  
Tracer blinked away, letting the grey and orange walls blur as she sped down the corridors. She reached the med-bay in no time. “Hey Athena, what room is Fareeha in?” She asked to the air as the speakers cracked to life to answer the question.  
“She is in the third room to your left.”  
“Thanks, love!” Tracer expressed, running over there to give her harness a rest.  
“Of course, Agent Tracer.”  
Fareeha was awake when she got there, reading a book with a bored expression. She smiled kindly as Tracer entered. The room was a standard hospital room, with a single window with plain green curtains, and a small table next to Fareeha’s bed with a few different pieces of paraphernalia on them.  
“Ah, Tracer. What a pleasure to have you here. To what do I owe the honour?” Fareeha was hooked up to two different IV drips, one probably for pain and one for nourishment. She seemed skinny, though not dangerously. Cuts and gashes of varying severity and age covered her arms, trailing from her wrists to her shoulders. They seemed shallow, yet still looked painful.  
“Heya, I just thought I’d pop in and see how you’re doing.”  
Fareeha sighed, setting the book on the table next to her. “I am fine. The cuts are nothing I am incapable of handling, and I am feeling better now that I have had a meal. I do not see why the doctor is keeping me in here.” She must have noticed how Tracer was bouncing up and down nervously. “Do you know why they are doing so?”  
“Yeah, I do… They think you’re brainwashed. Or suspect it or are wary of it or something like that. I probably shouldn’t be telling you this, but whatever, right?”  
Fareeha tipped her head calmly as Tracer said this, absorbing the new information. “I see. I suppose I can understand why they think this. I will have to wait until they do not suspect me then.”  
“Why do you understand? It looks like they did a number on you.” Tracer gestured to the gashes on Fareeha’s arms as she slumped down in the chair by her bed.  
“Because they did not do nearly as much as they could have. They merely used the knife over and over. When it became clear that I would not submit, they should’ve tried something new, yet they did not. There was definitely something wrong. Talon has been acting off about everything as of late. I can see why everyone would be unnerved by this.”  
“You think they have some plan behind it all?”  
“It seems likely.”  
“Guess I should get my harness to Winston soon, then.”  
“Feel free to go now. There will be plenty of time to talk when we know you are not at risk.”  
Tracer nodded, waving to Fareeha as she blinked to Winston’s lab.  
…  
Ugh. Winston’s science drabble had the same effect as a history teacher. It was all she could do to stay awake as he prattled on and on about her harness. “Let’s see… the stabiliser seems to be in working order, and the distributor doesn’t seem to be any different. The battery has no issues, and I can’t detect any remotely detonated devices. Do you feel okay?” Winston tentatively turned the harness over in his large, unwieldy hands, being careful to keep it powered on.  
Tracer snapped to attention, kicking her feet as she sat on his work table. “Yeah, I feel right as rain.”  
“No setbacks?”  
Tracer shivered. “Ew, no. I’m not sick if that’s what you mean.”  
Winston nodded. “Okay. Just let me know if you experience any issues. We don’t want to repeat what happened when you first got the harness.”  
She laughed. “Yeah, that’s the second-to-last thing I want!”  
…  
 _The sun was setting as Lena settled down in her bed. Several bags of new clothes and items were sitting on her dresser, waiting to be unpacked. All she needed from the bag was a pair of soft orange_ pyjamas _for now, though. It had taken her several minutes to get her new harness off since it had several clasps and straps that held her body in a_ vice _grip. After a moment of fumbling, she managed to get it on the charger stand, stumbling back to her bed._  
 _She wasn’t feeling great if she was honest. Her legs were heavy, and her stomach churned. Her head pounded and her eyes begged to close. She had gone the day smiling and laughing with Winston and the doctor as they helped her get adjusted to the harness in one short day._  
 _It was almost sobering to_ realise _she would have to wear it for the rest of her life. A big, bulky piece of metal was all that was standing between her and the void of time. The place she had just started calling “There.” A quiet sob built up in her throat, and she didn’t totally know why. She just let herself cry softly, humming at the same time to make sure she could still make noise._  
 _A year of hurt and pain and fear. That was why she was crying. She could finally voice her sorrow. Not to anyone else, of course, but at least she could use her voice, even if she was complaining to the air. It’s the only one who needed to listen. Her head throbbed with each quiet sob that left her throat as she covered her spiky hair with her warm blanket. She shivered uncontrollably, both from cold and fear. She must have wept for an hour. It was therapeutic, and she felt much better as she finally sighed, out of tears to cry. That was when she finally went to sleep._  
 _…_  
 _Pain. That was all Lena could feel as her head hammered, and her body felt like it was tearing itself apart. It felt like the Slipstream crash. She gasped and maybe screamed as the red, angry pain overtook her sleep. She rolled to the side, falling off the bed, entangled in the covers. She couldn’t move. All she could think of was the red and angry pain. She’s pretty sure she began to vomit, though she could barely comprehend anything. Athena must have turned on the lights, as the blinding brightness caused her head to hurt ever worse. Blood and vomit covered her and the covers as she could only groan and gasp, struggling to breathe._  
 _“Winston! Doctor Ziegler! Emergency in Lena Oxton’s room!”_  
 _Lena couldn’t hear the words properly. All she could hear was the ringing in her ears. The pain. It was only getting worse. She was hot and cold at the same time, with her eyes squeezed shut in some desperate attempt to block out the light._  
 _She heard voices. They were tinny and distant, and she couldn’t listen. She might’ve felt soft, hairy gorilla arms scoop her up if any sensation was replaced with pain._  
 _Time seemed to go longer than usual; every second turned into eternity as everything was red and loud and awful._  
 _Then she was met with darkness._  
 _…_  
 _Angela hurried about, quickly hooking up an IV drip to Lena, which put her to sleep in a matter of seconds. She was gasping and wheezing for breath even while unconscious, and was shaking like a leaf. In a matter of minutes, Lena was surrounded with IV drips, a_ heartrate _monitor, and a variety of other devices aimed at keeping her alive. Winston had set the chronal accelerator on a nearby table, popping the actual device out of the leather harness that held it, though he didn’t dare shut it off._  
 _“Winston, her body temperature is reading 116 degrees Fahrenheit! No human has ever had such a high fever and lived to tell about it!”_  
 _“Well, we’ll make sure Lena is the first! Now come on!”_  
 _Lena’s heartbeat was roughly twice as fast as it should’ve been, and she seemed to be in sheer agony even as she slept._  
 _Winston piped up as Mercy frantically struggled to_ stabilise _her condition, to no avail. “Her body is rejecting the chronal accelerator! It’s trying to fade back into Time, but the harness is keeping her here! In essence, she’s being torn from this plane of existence and the one she goes to when she fades!”_  
 _“Something like that could be lethal! Should we turn the harness off?”_  
 _Winston shook his head. “No, we can’t do that. Who knows what would happen, and it wouldn’t even solve anything.”_  
 _With that grim exchange of words, they began to work, trying desperately to keep the pilot they had toiled over for a year alive. The whole time, they didn’t notice that right outside to door, was a ninja and a cowboy._  
 _…_  
 _Winston grunted. “She’s not even close to stable. Are you sure we should let her wake up?”_  
 _The doctor sighed. The sun was now setting as they spent the full day working, to_ know _apparent avail. “I’ve done what I can so far. We can’t risk taking our eyes off her, but she risks a coma at this point, and we’d be better off letting her wake up and eat whatever she can. She’s hooked up to nourishment IVs, three or four of them, in fact, but those can only do so much.”_  
 _Winston nodded. “Do you think the painkillers would work, though?”_  
 _“That’s where things get tricky. It might help with something like a headache, but that’s all.”_  
 _“So what do you suggest we do?”_  
 _“Give her the paralysis serum.”_  
 _“What? Are you crazy? We can’t_ paralyse _her!”_  
 _“It won’t be permanent! Just a serum that can, in essence, turn off her spinal cord. This will stop any and all pain she can feel from the neck down!”_  
 _“But what effect do you think that would have on her emotionally?”_  
Dr _Ziegler sighed, already preparing the syringe. “At this point, we need to_ prioritise _her physical health first.” Winston nodded grimly as she_ pricked _Lena’s neck, slowly pushing its contents into her bloodstream. Within ten minutes, she had stopped shivering and churning._  
 _…_  
 _It was an hour later. Lena would be waking up soon. Winston and Angela were tired. Just tired. Winston continued running diagnostics while the doctor kept Lena alive. Her nanotech was useless on Lena._  
 _“Winston, you should get some rest. I will watch Lena.” Angela offered, trying to calm the stressed gorilla. “Maybe you could get some of your peanut butter and relax for a bit.”_  
 _“You’re one to talk. You know we can’t risk that right now.”_  
 _“She is not stable, but so long as we keep an eye on her, she should live. I can watch her.”_  
 _“I refuse.”_  
 _Another voice cut in. “Ya know, how ‘bout you both go get some sleep? We’ll watch Lena.” Jesse and Genji let themselves into the room. Their eyes immediately went to their friend, who was surrounded by IVs and other machines acting like a completely new type of anchor to this world._  
 _“Jesse, how long have you two been out there?” Angela asked, sounding exhausted._  
 _Genji answered this question, the red lights on his robotic half lighting up Lena’s ashen face as he walked to her bed. “We have been out here for several hours. I do not need sleep, and Jesse got some earlier. We will watch her.”_  
 _“I mean, we spent so much time with her in that chamber. What're a few more days while she gets better? We’ll try to get her some food, too. We’ll be sure to warn ya if anything goes wrong.”_  
 _“Should you not be focusing on training?” Angela asked with no real conviction in her voice._  
 _Genji chuckled. “We both know I do not need that as of right now. Now go rest.”_  
 _Angela sighed again. “Let me know the instant something is amiss. She should be awake soon. She will be unable to move her limbs, and this may confuse and disorient her. Her_ heart rate _is closer to normal now, but she is still critical.”_  
 _McCree nodded. “We gotcha. Now you two sleep. I’ll die before I let Lena do so.”_  
 _…_  
 _Lena woke up ten minutes later. Her head hurt, but the pain was dulled. She opened her eyes as light blinded her. It took her several seconds to_ realise _the lights were dim. She went to rub her head._  
 _Nothing happened. She tried again to move her arm, but it would not budge. She could not feel it. Not her other arm either. Or her legs. Or anything below her neck. She began to breathe heavily as panic set in. What was going on? Then a familiar voice offered her some comfort._  
 _“Lena, calm down now. You’re safe. Don’t go stirrin’ and fussin’.”_  
 _“Jesse?” She asked quietly. Her voice still worked. She wasn’t desynchronized. “What’s going on? Why can’t I move?” She hated how her voice trembled._  
 _“Temporary paralysis. The doc said it’s so you’re not in pain.”_  
 _“In pain from what?”_  
 _“From what I gather, your body ‘ain’t liking the harness too much, so it’s making you super sick. We’re here to make sure ya don’t die while the doctor sleeps.”_  
 _“Die? It’s that bad, huh?” She wasn’t as scared of this as she ought to be. “Well, I guess my days of being a test subject aren’t over. Oh, well.” She feigned nonchalance in an attempt to hide her sadness. Neither Jesse nor Genji bought it. Jesse looked back at Genji, who was sitting on the floor in his meditation pose, the red lights being the primary light source. He spoke up._  
 _“Do not feel the need to hide your emotions. I know how you feel.” And that was the critical point. He did understand._  
 _Tracer sighed, putting it aside for the moment. “Can this bed sit up?”_  
 _Jesse found the remote. “I think so. Gimme a sec.” He began to fiddle with the remote as the bed moved up, helping Lena meet her friends’ eyes. The only problem was that Jesse had pushed the bed up too far, and Lena could see herself slipping._  
 _“J-Jesse, I’m falling!” She grunted as she saw herself tip to the side. He dropped the remote to catch her, struggling to hold her upright. She was dead weight since she was unable to move._  
 _“Shoot, I’m sorry!” He_ apologised _, helping to lean her back against the bed. Lena looked away in shame._  
 _“No, I’m the one that’s sorry.”_  
 _“Bullcrap.”_  
 _“What?”_  
 _“I said bullcrap. You didn’t ask for this. You didn’t purposefully get sick. You didn’t do anything wrong. Don’t_ apologise _.”_  
 _Lena stayed silent. He seemed pleased with himself._  
 _“Now, I promised the doc I’d get you some food. I don’t think pudding is what she had in mind, but hey, it’s pudding!”_  
 _Lena laughed. “She’s going to kill you if she finds out!”_  
 _“Not if you don’t tell her!” He winked, pulling out a package of pudding cups and a spoon. He opened one up and put as much on the spoon as possible. “Here, take a bite. Or a drink. Or whatever the heck ya do with pudding.”_  
 _Tracer’s cheeks burned with humiliation as she reluctantly ate the chocolate pudding, rolling the soft snack over her tongue, doing everything she could to imprint the sensation into her brain. It’s been forever since she’s had food like it. It was great. Too bad it had to be spoon fed to her. After she had swallowed, she opened her mouth to_ apologise _, only for Jesse to hold up his hand again._  
 _“Look, don’t_ apologise _. We watch out for each other. That’s all I’m doin’. I’m just tryin’ to make ya feel better. I’m sure when you’re up and kicking again, you’ll watch my back. For now, just let us help you feel better.”_  
 _Despite not being able to even feel her chest, Lena felt a warmth in her heart that she hadn’t felt for a while. The feeling that someone was treating her as an equal, not as an unfortunate patient. Genji just sat back silently, watching the two of them. Lena couldn’t be more grateful as they stayed with her, just keeping her company, even as they had to hold her over a trash can as she vomited blood and bile. Even as she would wake up in the middle of the night after the serum had worn off, grunting from the agony before they could give her more. Even as she would find herself without the strength to even lift her head, they were there, with her on the long road to recovery._  
…  
Tracer woke up with a start, trying to re-orient herself. What had happened? Was that a dream? It was so vivid. It was such a vivid recreation of the time after her harness. She’d almost think she was desynchronized. Was she? She turned to her harness, which was glowing its usual bright azure shade. She was still here. So, was it just a dream? It didn’t seem normal.  
Then she noticed that her head felt fuzzy. Like cotton. She wasn’t sick, but she had trouble thinking. Maybe she just needed more sleep. She’d worry about her dream tomorrow.  
The one thing she didn’t notice before going back to sleep, was the purple flash of light and the soft whispering.  
“We’re ready to begin.”


	10. Headache

**Part 2: Yourself**

 

Chapter 10- Headache

[ ](http://imgur.com/H9iuP9a)

Tracer woke up with her head just as foggy as when she went to sleep. Every thought was slow to surface and kept her moving sluggishly as she prepared for the debriefing Athena had told her about. Her harness shone as brightly as ever, and Tracer made sure every strap was secure before heading out to the meeting, sleep still heavy on her eyes. It took her several seconds to figure out that she had a headache, buzzing and incessant and annoying.

She smiled and strode out of the room. Her arm that Widowmaker had shot was healing well thanks to some of the doctor's nanotech. She probably wasn't supposed to use it, but it hardly hurt. She grunted as she activated her blinks, bypassing who was probably Jesse as she ran to where Winston was holding the conference. Debriefing. Whatever he wanted to call it. The meeting was in his lab, surrounding the central HoloVid displaying a map of the globe.

Tracer blinked in there with a hearty "Heya!" as she bounced over to Winston's tire, swinging back and forth on it a tad as Winston grunted his hellos, slightly annoyed at her swinging on the tire.

In the room was Genji, who waved a hello to her from atop the balcony overhang, watching everyone in their meditation pose. Commander Morrison and Captain Amari were sticking close to each other next to the HoloVid and Winston. Fareeha and Dr Ziegler were noticeably absent, but in the centre of the room were two new figures-

"Torbjörn! Reinhardt!" Tracer shouted in ecstasy, ignoring the annoying headache as she swung the tire back, launched herself off of it, and barreled right into Reinhardt in a huge bear hug. She could've sworn she even made him move backwards a few inches as he returned the hug, nearly crushing her right back. He was not wearing his usual bulky, silver-coated armour. Instead, he was dressed in a massive tank top and a pair of blue shorts that miraculously fit the giant of a man. His hair was white with age, yet he seemed to have even more energy than before he was forced to retire.

"Ah, Tracer! It is wonderful to see you here! I expected nothing less!"

"Well, you know me, Lieutenant! I gotta go fast!" At those words, he released her and looked about ready to topple over from a loud, booming laugh that echoed throughout the entire room.

"You've got to go fast indeed! Sonic the Hedgehog himself would feel threatened by your speed!"

Next to him, a man that could barely reach her harness let out a "Hmph." He was wearing red combat armor, and a prosthetic claw, with a gun and hammer clipped to his belt. "Looks like the Cavalry is here too."

"Torby!" Tracer charged towards him too, enveloping him in another bear hug that he seemed very opposed to, as he looked away with an annoyed grunt. "When did you two get here?"

Reinhardt bellowed another laugh. "Last night! We managed to get our hands on a plane to fly here! It's not in such good condition now, though."

Torbjörn grunted. "Maybe that pile of scrap wouldn't have broken down if you bothered to lose a few pounds."

Reinhardt feigned being hurt. "Why, I am not fat! I am muscular! There is a distinct difference!"

That was when Winston cleared his throat, gesturing for everyone to quiet down. Tracer blinked back up to his tire swing, where she noticed Jesse standing a few feet from the doorway, listening intently. He was here too.

"Now that we have a somewhat substantial number of members back, I believe now would be the time to make our first public operation. Commander Morrison, would you like to- "

"I'm not the commander anymore. This is all you." The man behind the red visor responded curtly, offering nothing else as Ana cast him an exasperated glance, rolling her eyes.

"I- uh, alright then," Winston stumbled nervously. Tracer made sure to pop him a thumbs up. She still had that headache, though… "Vishkar recently attempted expanding into Numbani. Naturally, this did not sit well with the public, and protests began, on the less-than-peaceful side. One of the first to react was Lúcio Correia dos Santos. He continued to engage in fights with Vishkar, but was recently captured and has been broadcasting an SOS message. The people of the city have been getting more violent in response to this. Things will escalate out of control without intervention. So, we're sending a team to free Lúcio, but also to publicise Overwatch's return." Winston took a deep breath, fiddling nervously with a bubble shield as he explained. "It will be a quick mission, but nobody with a criminal record should be there since we're trying to gain some positive PR with this."

Reinhardt chipped in, his voice demanding attention, "So those of us most well-known should go in! That would be a small group!"

Mercy chuckled from a nearby table. "In fact, I think the only ones here that fit that bill would be Torbjörn, Tracer, Reinhardt and myself. The same group cobbled together during the Null Sector Uprising."

Tracer wrinkled her nose. Null Sector had been the cause of her first mission. All the destruction to her home… it was the stuff out of books or movies. She shook her head in disgust, remaining quiet. Of course, they'd select Tracer to go on a mission like this. They need to advertise their poster child, after all. Being flashy and silly and goofy. That about sums her up.

Tracer blinked in surprise. Where did that come from? What's with the negativity? It must be the headache. No more grouchy thoughts! Time to smile!

"Bah. If this is going to be a quiet mission, I don't think we're well-equipped," Torbjörn complained, glaring daggers at Reinhardt, who didn't seem to mind very much.

Winston hummed thoughtfully. "Then instead of a straight stealth mission, we'll have two groups: Reinhardt and Torbjörn can cause a show during one of the riots, which Tracer and Mercy can sneak in and find Lucio. Detaining him as they are is very illegal, but they seem to be avoiding legal repercussions with the sheer amount of power their organisation has."

McCree snorted. So y'all are just gonna swoop in, rescue Lúcio, send few dozen different witch-hunting groups after Overwatch, swoop out, and hopefully have gained something from it?"

Winston seemed much more uncomfortable all of a sudden, his eyes flicking to the walls and ceiling with no actual direction. Tracer shot McCree an annoyed glance.

"Maybe Lúcio will join us, or at the least, we can hurt Vishkar's reputation. We'd be damaging an organisation killing people. We'd be protecting people. Isn't that kind of… oh, I don't know, our jobs?" she snapped, blinking into McCree's face, poking his chest harshly, causing him to take an off-guard step back.

"Woah there, didn't expect ya to get all fussy over that. Calm down," he replied with almost as much venom, not expecting her sudden criticism. "Alright, geez, didn't think you'd get so worked up. Don't mind me."

Tracer snorted and blinked back to the tire swing, as Winston, Genji, Reinhardt, and a few others watched her with varying degrees of surprise or confusion at her outburst. She shook her head, gesturing for Winston to continue.

"Well, uh, Tracer is correct. Hopefully, after the mission, we will be much closer to getting the Petras act recanted, allowing us to work in the public eye again."

"Assuming the governor of the UK doesn't botch things again," Tracer added snidely. Jesse quirked his head, perplexed. Tracer rolled her eyes at him and rubbed her head, trying to get a headache to go away.

The doctor squinted at Tracer, then cleared her throat to grab everyone's attention. "Then if we are prepared, we should meet at the hangar soon. When should we depart, Winston?"

Winston stared at the ceiling for a second as he thought. "I'd say fifteen minutes. That should be more than enough time to fuel the jet. Lena? Would you be okay with doing that?"

Tracer snapped to attention, thinking for a minute. "Yeah! I can take care of that! Leave it to me. How long of a mission is this supposed to be, though? I only have about fifteen hours of charge, assuming I use this thing frequently."

Winston answered quickly. "I find it hard to believe the mission could take any more than six to ten hours, including transit."

Tracer nodded. "Alrighty. I won't bring my charger then! I'll meet you all in the hangar!" Before they could say anything, Tracer blinked off.

…

Everyone sat in silence for a few seconds after Tracer blinked away. Genji was the first to speak up, perfectly balanced on the balcony as he watched the door that had just shut behind her.

"She's acting off," he supplied curtly, jumping down from the ledge, landing without a second thought.

"No kiddin'. Haven't seen her that irritable in… ever."

Winston hummed. "She seemed to be bouncing back and forth regarding behaviour, too."

Commander Morrison just grunted. "It's likely just stress. Based off what I've heard, things have been rough for her lately. I'm sure she's fine. It's not like we all haven't had rough patches."

"That or she's just on a really rough period," Ana added from beside him, causing a symphony of surprised coughs from behind Morrison's visor as she smirked at him smugly.

"Somehow, I doubt that's it," he managed to rasp back. Winston himself was giving one huge face palm.

Mercy stood up from her foldable chair, stretching slightly. "Well, if this banter is over with, I am going to get my tech and check on Lena in the hangar." Mercy took smooth strides out the door, taking the twisting and winding passages to the medical wing, which may as well be her room. Her office was perfectly organised, with everything in a proper drawer and labelled accordingly. In one such cabinet, carefully protected with a fingerprint scanner, was her suit's wings, Caduceus Staff, and pistol. She carefully removed her lab coat, allowing her Valkyrie suit to show itself in full. Clipping her holster to her belt and attaching her wings to the suit, she grabbed her staff and made her way to the hangar.

Lena was there, busily blinking around one of the smaller ships as she fueled it and checked its various functions. The Ship was only large enough for about eight people or so to have decent personal space. It was a reflective, polished silver colour, with a grey nose and large, aerodynamic wings. The cockpit was a ladder climb's away from the proper area where the majority of them would wait.

Tracer moved in her usual blue blur, scurrying around with no lack of energy. It was no wonder the public eye took such a liking to her boundless energy. It was incredible Lena remained so resilient despite everything. Of course, such a constant need to be an icon for Overwatch alongside needing to tend to her own issues would cause some weariness.

"Hello, Lena. How is the ship coming?" Angela started, moving over to help her with one of the fuel tanks, only for Lena to blink in and out with it before she could offer any assistance. Thank goodness her blinks didn't set it aflame.

"Oh! Hiya, Doc!" Tracer merrily greeted between blinks. "Sorry about earlier! I have a massive headache; it's kind of put me in a weird mood."

Angela shook her head. "I doubt anyone is particularly hurt. You've been through quite the ordeal lately. Would you like me to retrieve some medication from the lab? Blinking with a headache cannot be healthy."

"Eh, I'm sure it'll go away. I had a weird dream last night. Probably thanks to only just getting my harness back."

Angela quirked an eyebrow, despite Lena barely paying any attention to the doctor herself. "A dream? Do you mean a normal person's dream or your kind of dreams?" Despite trying to be somewhat playful with her words, Angela regrets them the instant they left her mouth. Lena figured out why in an instant. It was a short sputter in her blinks as she stumbled for an instant before returning to her vigorous blinking.

Lena played it off because of course, she did. "Normal person, huh? No, it wasn't exactly that. But I wasn't faded or anything, so I'm fine all around."

Mercy stumbled over her words. "Lena, you know I did not mean it like that."

Tracer waved her off dismissively as she closed the fueling port to the jet. "No, don't worry about it. You're right; it wasn't a "normal person" dream. The plight of being me." Lena's voice was nonchalant like she didn't care too much about Mercy's words. And yet, underneath that, was some venom. Angela had hurt Tracer.

"Tracer, you are perfectly normal. I was merely speaking of-" Tracer held up her hand, cutting Mercy off.

"Look, I know what you meant. Just drop it." The perky tone was gone, all business now. "I'm going to have to fly, right?"

Angela cocked her head. "'Have to' fly? I was under the impression you enjoyed piloting ships," Mercy admitted reluctantly.

Shaking her head, Tracer just muttered a "forget it," and blinked onto the ship without another word.

Mercy swore under her breath. Stupid. Any chance she had at Lena opening up to her was eliminated with that one slip-up. Why on earth would she ever think it wouldn't be a sore spot for her?

It was around this time that Reinhardt and Torby both made their way to the hangar, with varying degrees of enthusiasm.

"How has Tracer been?" Reinhardt asked in his booming voice, demanding attention as he clanked and clattered forward in his bulky armour. Torbjörn was in much less of a rush, taking short, slow steps forward.

Angela sighed. "She's been very… Tracer," she supplied helpfully.

Reinhardt laughed heartily, his armour shaking with him as he heaved his enormous hammer over his shoulder. "A true flash of lightning, unpredictable and powerful!"

Torbjörn grunted from behind his friend. "Said ‘unpredictability' made it far too complicated when it came to getting her armour on missions," he complained idly, climbing into the jet first.

Mercy couldn't help but chuckle as Reinhardt leapt to Tracer's defence, engaging in some time-filling conversation between them as Mercy watched with a smile on their face. Tracer never made a sound from the cockpit once.

…

Genji and McCree got along better than most people would think at first glance. When seeing them for the first time, they seemed to always be at odds or to have no interest in interacting with each other at all. This simply was not true. Though not by blood, they were brothers. It was impossible not to be, after saving each other's lives a countless amount of times. It was what Blackwatch did to someone. Maybe it was some instinctual coping mechanism, to form close bonds with those you could. Maybe it was just unavoidable in a Blackwatch setting. Neither Genji nor McCree particularly cared. At the end of the day, they were brothers.

And they had something very huge in common. Though she never was officially in Blackwatch, she'd been on more than enough missions with them. She's proven herself time and time again to be more than capable. The only thing keeping her out of Blackwatch was her status in the public eye. So, despite it never being official, Tracer was a part of Blackwatch as well.

And to Genji and McCree, Lena Oxton was a sister. A little sister that would always smile, with kind words, a bubbly personality, sarcastic and witty humour, and the skills to go alongside all of it. When faced with certain death, she laughs. She smiles. She keeps going.

Of course, it was an act. Her big brothers that she never had in the form of Genji and McCree knew this. They first met when she was just a pilot. She was goofy, kind, and very similar to how she currently acted. However, one flight gone wrong was what it took for her true colours to shine through.

She was scared. She was guilty. She was weak. The public would have someone believe that she was infallible. Any small mistake was irrelevant since she could undo it all. She could right every wrong on the earth, and she would fight to the bitter end. That she was a hero. And yet, to be a hero, someone had to know how to feel scared, guilty, and weak; it was how someone learned to be brave, confident, and strong. Genji and McCree knew this better than most.

Genji had fallen into the pitfalls of luxury but had eventually formed his ideals and stuck to them. He had them tested as his brother's dragon tore through his body. Then he changed. He was thrust into a body alien to him, more machine than man. A part of two different worlds, but belonging to neither. An outcast. Certainly, not the beloved heir the Shimada clan he once was. Through it all, he came out with his priorities more in order than ever, learning what actually matters in life.

Jesse was a criminal. A horrible person that had ended innocent lives for selfish gain. Completely numb to humanity and kindness. On that front, Genji and Jesse were very similar. Then Jesse was given a "choice." To have a boss, or to rot in prison. The choice was obvious, though it didn't mean he had to be happy about it. And he wasn't. He continued his rebellious streak, as irritating staff members treated him like a "special case." Like a stick of dynamite that could explode at any moment. In some regards, he was. Those that did not fear him pretended to understand his situation. None of them did. The kindness they offered was hollow, trivial items intended to show compassion. Then Genji came around. Equally as morbid and angry at the world. He was the first to truly understand. It was surprising how comforting Jesse found this. He learned how to channel his anger into productivity, and eventually learned to appreciate the circumstances he once loathed.

But before that acceptance came Tracer. A simple pilot, nobody worth paying attention to. She was brought into Gibraltar a week before her test. Both Genji and McCree loathed her for most of those seven days. It was a hollow loathing, not one they would ever act on. The way she walked and carried herself, though, showed she had to struggle very little to get where she was. Sure, there had been trials, all lives had trials, but nothing on the magnitude that would imply she understood even a fraction of how Genji and McCree felt.

Lena was young and naïve, blind to how cold the world was. A mere teenager with a perky attitude. Always greeting the two of them with smiles and waves. No hostility. No fear. Never wary of the lethal assassins she calmly addressed. It was infuriating.

Over time, however, it became evident. Oxton wasn't oblivious to the lethality of the twosome. She was choosing to look beyond it. To ignore it. Their bodies or their past didn't matter to her. She would smile at them the same way she smiled at everyone else. Not one of pity, or obligation. Not even naivety. She just smiled. It was an innate desire to please, to help, or to make someone's day a little bit brighter. It was impossible not to develop some begrudging admiration for someone's determination to deny all negativity for the sake of helping.

Then she was gone, without even a body to bury. An irreversible mistake, with no cause or reason. A sea of flames was all. The pilot Lena Oxton became a taboo whisper of an "experiment gone wrong." It was peculiar that someone so undeserving of such a fate would meet their end as she did. It happened, of course, since the world was cold, but it was still impossible to expect such a tragedy for someone so bubbly. Nobody ever expected it.

Genji and McCree both noticed, to their collective surprise, that the halls of Gibraltar seemed darker, with a perpetual, sour mood for several weeks after the crash. The halls begged to echo the pleasant British voice that could light up a room.

It was even more surprising that they found themselves missing it as well. They had never truly liked Lena Oxton, but her attitude was something they could grow to appreciate.

Then she was back. Several months later. It was a complete coincidence that Genji and McCree were working in the Gibraltar headquarters when the compound seemed to erupt in activity, scientists scurrying back and forth. Neither of them particularly cared about the chaos, since it didn't involve them. But over time, they could hear faint whispers of "Lena Oxton," someone the two of them had long since put out of their minds. Doctor Ziegler became scarcer and harder to find, only seeing them when Genji had to go in for circuit maintenance. The good doctor must have figured out Genji was curious because she explained what happened to the pilot while fixing his robotic arm.

Genji didn't believe her when he first heard it. A ghost? That made little sense. How could a mishap with a teleporting jet do such a thing? Apparently, the jet relied on something akin to time travel to move from one place to another. Still, there was no way it could be something the doctor couldn't handle in a few weeks.

They were wrong. It wasn't until three weeks after her initial reappearance that she could even have visitors. She was in a room all to herself, not even in the medical wing, which was a distinct surprise. It must mean she was doing fine, right?

They were very wrong. The two of them happened to see her shortly after Angela told Genji she was accepting visitors. To be honest, neither of them knew particularly why they felt the need to go. Maybe it was curiosity, more than anything. It was unusual for the doctor to take such a long time tending to someone.

She smiled as she saw them, giving a friendly wave as she grinned, waving them in. From a distance, she seemed okay. It wasn't until they entered the room that they saw what was amiss. The very atmosphere of the chamber felt charged and unnatural, volatile and unpredictable. Lena herself was no better off. She seemed almost ethereal, not entirely present. Because she wasn't. As she walked around the room, one could see her feet phasing in and out of stray wires as her charred flight outfit hung from her, seeming to be the only thing she could maintain contact with.

Genji had just watched her, perplexed. McCree had acted distant. She acted as cheerful as always, seemingly unhurt by their behaviour towards her. There were moments of frustration as she would try to say something, but she seemingly could not speak. Altogether their meeting lasted a few short minutes, but in that time Genji and McCree had formed an entirely different opinions on the girl.

Over time, they visited her, more and more frequently. They didn't know why, but it was impossible to not worry about the bubbly pilot. She acted the same as always, even without a body or voice. They would walk in to see her surrounded by doctors, who would wave machine after machine in front of her. She took it all with a smile.

Perhaps this is what made Genji grow to like her more. She was not blind. She knew her position. She knew she was a science experiment, as doctors brought her machine after machine to try and touch until Winston came and kicked them out. She did not let this affect her. At first, they thought it to be out of naivety. The same kind that made her smile, to begin with.

This simply wasn't the case. McCree was the first to notice it. Over time, her eyes changed. They matched that of old Deadlock members he'd seen. It was a look that said, "I've been in pain, but you'd better not think me different for it." That childlike innocence was gone, though neither of them knew why. What could have possibly happened that could sap her energy like it was?

She didn't let her sorrow show very easily. At first, they thought she was just powering through it. Eventually, though, she seemed more distant. It took longer to get her attention. She would take longer to react. Not to mention she was always bored.

McCree never thought he'd share his writing with anyone. It would show weakness, or maybe that was just his justification for it. But when he walked in to see Lena reading the same book Winston had destabilised for her for the fifth time, he decided that if there was anyone to show, it was her.

At first, it was just dumb short stories that he would lay out page by page for her. She would hunch over them for hours with a pen Winston had given her, writing detailed notes on them. Sometimes she would draw pictures with that pen that related to them. When she was doing this, her eyes seemed brighter, and her already beaming smile wider. She enjoyed editing his stuff. Whenever he was stationed in Gibraltar, he would take her anything new he had written. He would lay them out page for page and let her take all the time she needed. Occasionally she would have to write anything she wished to tell him on paper first, which gave McCree an idea.

After asking Doctor Ziegler, he was finally able to get Lena a destabilised book on sign language. Lena was curious at first, but took to it quickly, able to fluently sign in about two months. McCree himself took a bit longer, but soon they could carry conversations as McCree could finally translate the meaning of her words. It was easier for everyone, though she seemed adamant about keeping her ability to sign a secret. McCree wasn't sure why, until he realised she'd have to answer questions about her experience, and that wasn't what she wanted to do.

Genji spoke with her far less often but visited her just as much. They had a mutual understanding of each other and how they felt, and Lena didn't judge in the slightest as he would seethe over both of their circumstances. She was even the one to point in in the direction of Nepal, where Mondatta was from, stating he might be able to help. This was how Genji found Zenyatta, though the only reason he stayed as his mentor continued to teach him was her promise that they could help. Eventually, he started to believe her, long after leaving Overwatch before its collapse.

They supported each other. For a girl that couldn't touch anything, she was surprisingly sturdy. They held her up as well. The day she came to them, finally stabilised was one of the happiest days for all of them. Then she got sick again, as her body rejected the harness for a few extra weeks. They supported her then, knowing she was more than willing to return the favour. And she did.

As the years dragged on, and they went on more and more missions together after being moved to the Swiss headquarters, they became closer and closer. An inseparable trio of brothers and a sister. They found ways to contact each other even after Overwatch's collapse. They knew each other better than they knew themselves at times.

Which was why both of them knew something was wrong with Lena. It wasn't just stress. Something was bothering her, but they didn't know what. They exchanged knowing glances as Lena blinked away after her outburst at McCree. She's never been that quick to be offended.

"Whelp," McCree began tactfully, "If we're not needed for this mission, I'll be training. Meet me in the practice range, Genji?" He asked, stretching nonchalantly.

Genji tipped his head, already walking to the door. "Of course. Please, have Athena alert us if we are needed."

The two of them were in no rush to reach the training field.

"No way it's just stress," McCree began out of the blue, saying what they were both thinking. "She's way better at dealin' with stress than that."

"Yes, something has been troubling her as of late. Perhaps it is a repercussion of those dreams?"

McCree winced. "Oh yeah, she did have to deal with that when she lost her harness, didn't she?"

"According to her, she was reliving all the previous events since the Slipstream crash."

"Ow, can't catch a break, huh? Still, it seems like somethin' must be pesterin' her beyond all that. Think it had somethin' to do with that last mission?"

"Perhaps, but we have no way of being sure- stop!" Genji abruptly hissed, automatically making McCree reach for Peacekeeper. A split second later, McCree felt a shuriken whizz by towards an unknown target that seemed to be the wall. The next moment, there was a short cry of pain as a flash of purple revealed someone McCree hadn't thought of in a long time.

"You? Sombra?" McCree asked in shock? "How the hell did you get in here? What the hell are ya doing here anyway?" he asked hotly, pointing peacekeeper at the Mexican clad in a gaudy purple.

Sombra shook her arm, which had a small line of blood showing from a cut on her sleeve, smirking remorselessly. "Aw, you remember me? What a surprise, given you were dead drunk in that bar," she teased, rubbing her thumb against her long, purple nails poking out from her blue and black glove.

"Why isn't Athena settin' off the alarms?" McCree asked as though Genji would have the answer.

Sombra chuckled, pulling out her gun and shuffling it between hands as she leant against the wall casually. "Oh, that A.I. of yours? Surprisingly complex system, but nothing I couldn't silence. I figured you and I could just have some fun for a while."

McCree shot without a second thought, but she was gone, having vanished before their eyes. McCree jumped out of the way as he found her gun to his side, pelting his chest plate with bullets. A few may have penetrated the armour, but that hardly mattered.

Genji spun around, throwing another shuriken, jumping into the air as another wave of ammunition came his way. The shuriken hit the girl's leg, causing her to stumble slightly.

"Ugh, you guys aren't much for having a good time, are you? Fine, if you want to take this seriously…" Suddenly, at speeds rivalling Genji himself, Sombra charged towards Genji, sliding underneath his blade that he had pulled out, twisting and jumping back up behind him, streaking her nails alongside his back. There's no way it should have had any effect, yet purple blossomed through Genji's body, tinting his visor and lights. He froze, locking up and falling to the ground, unable to move.

"The hell?" McCree declared, firing a perfectly aimed shot at Sombra, who vanished at the last minute, appearing behind him. He felt her nails streak along his robotic arm, and his blood ran cold, and he lost the feeling of the prosthetic, while it fell limp at his side. McCree whipped around in an attempt to hit the girl with Peacekeeper, but she was gone again, looking at the both of them like they were a museum exhibit.

"You know, I would use the age-old "stop hitting yourself" method, but I have some class, so I'll settle foooorrrr…" Sombra pressed some buttons on her HoloVid projectors, and it struck McCree. She was using Null Sector tech! The pattern, the colour, the sheer power, it was the same technology controlling the bastions and OR14s he'd seen on his recon mission. That meant she could…!

The next minute, his arm shone an unnatural purple and began to spasm, pulling him left and right like it was being pulled by an invisible force, twisting him around and making it impossible to aim. Genji, meanwhile, had stood up, stiff as a statue. Then he turned to face McCree, sword drawn. His visor was purple, and his movements were rigid and unnatural.

"I- I cannot control it!" Genji shouted from behind the mask, sounding desperate. Then he swung at McCree with deadly precision, creating a deep gash in his side, penetrating his armour as he clumsily dove out of the way, feeling blood seep through the holes in the armour as the serrated edges bit into his skin further. He'd be fine; he's survived worse.

"Genji! She's hacking prosthetics!" McCree shouted, hoping Genji could maintain some semblance of control, and that he knew what he meant. McCree struggled to hold onto his gun as his arm continued to spasm uncontrollably. Sombra, meanwhile, was sitting cross-legged on a cargo crate with a cruel, entertained smile on her face.

Genji swung the blade again in a horizontal slash. There was no way McCree was dodging this one. Suddenly, a really dumb idea popped into his head. McCree twisted against the pull of his robotic arm, facing away from Genji as his arm pulled him in the opposite direction.

McCree bellowed an agonised shout as Genji's blade sliced through his prosthetic like it was butter, sparks showering outward in a glorious light show as blood from his shoulder splattered on the ground. The pain was quick and brilliant, shaking his whole system. McCree turned, shaking, to see the prosthetic cut around five-sixths of the way up, lying on the ground in a pool of blood, oil, and sparks. The doctor would kill him for that.

"Oh?" Sombra tipped her head intrigued. "I wouldn't have expected you to do that. Then again, you're not the brightest individual, are you, Jesse?"

Free from the annoyance of a malfunctioning arm, McCree pointed Peacekeeper at Sombra with renewed aim. She grunted in pain as the bullet penetrated her arm, rendering her unable to type.

"McCree! Dragon!" Genji shouted before his words became toneless and flat. " _Ryujin No Ken Wo Kurae_." Genji spun around as a bright green dragon erupted from his sword in a brilliant flash, taking up a vast majority of the hallway.

McCree was ready. He dove away, putting some space between him and the neon beast. "It's high noon!" McCree focused the uncanny aim he had honed in the Deadlock gang, A split second before the dragon connected with him, he fired. Genji fell to the ground instantly, causing the roaring dragon to dissolve into nothing. His leg was damaged severely, right in the joint, making it impossible to move as oil mixed with blood leaked out. That was fine; he'd survive.

Sombra made a "Tsk." Sound as she hopped down from the crate, holding her gun in her unwounded hand. Her offhand, McCree was sure. He could take her. "Before you kill me, mind telling me how dearest Fareeha is doing? I haven't seen her since I dropped her off at Talon."

McCree froze and glared at her as she stared down the barrel of his gun, dauntless.

"YOU were the one to do that?" McCree screeched, beginning to shake.

Sombra shook her head. "It was not my decision. It seemed almost counter-productive to take her. Regardless, a job's a job, and I get the feeling things will still go down as intended. It was interesting. She put up such little of a fight, though that woman has a glare that can wilt a flower. She didn't even seem afraid as Reaper approached her while she was bound, knocking her out. I wonder how she held up with him."

Any other words Sombra had were cut off as she suddenly slumped, tumbling to the oil and blood covered floor in a heap, with a small dart sticking out of her neck.

"C-Captain Amari!" McCree announced lamely, growing dizzy.

Ana bent over the unconscious intruder. "Let's get one thing straight. You do NOT touch my daughter. And Jesse?"

"Uh, yes ma'am?"

"You may want to sit down."

"Why would you say that?" McCree asked, before finally looking at himself. "Woah. That is a lot of blood." Then the world darkened as he joined Sombra.

…

The crowds were chaos, an endless tidal wave of protestors, some carrying signs in an impossible vat of noise. It did NOT help Tracer's headache. She and Mercy watched from an above rooftop while Reinhardt and Torbjörn travelled by foot. The building Vishkar had purchased to be their own was massive, easier larger in volume than most of the skyscrapers nearby. It looked like a simple business building, with many windows in perfectly aligned rows and columns. A large, blue V had been attached to the front of the building, Reinhardt could get on two other Reinhardts' shoulders and still wouldn't be half as tall as it.

The entrance to the building was blocked by a huge line of police officers and Vishkar employees.

Then chaos erupted as one of the Vishkar employees attacked one of the civilians on the front line. It was an Omnic, one that had been holding a sign, getting closer to the employees than most. A bright, blue beam of pure energy locked onto the Omnic, causing his clothes to catch fire as his circuits began to spark and come loose. Then the fire reached the oil in his system, and flames began to pour out of every opening in his body until he collapsed to the ground in a heap of sparks and flames.

The employee did all this with a deadpan expression. From where Tracer could see, she had long, blonde hair and pasty white skin. Her outfit was white as well, with gold trimming.

The crowd erupted into screams of horror, anguish, and sheer rage as the police seemed to fortify their defences against the onslaught of civilians trying to reach the employee in an attempt to avenge their comrade. More death followed. Both human, and Omnic. Oil and blood decorated the floors, and the smell of smoke and burnt flesh began to permeate throughout the plaza.

Mercy watched with her eyes wide and horrified. Tracer watched in rage. Reinhardt just screamed.

It was a deep, booming cry from the back of the crowd, causing the entire mob to silence themselves and turn to face the newcomer. Even the Vishkar employees paused.

"How dare you commit such a heinous act, you monsters!?" Reinhardt bellowed, louder than a voice with a megaphone. "Let me through!" The crowd parted instantly, creating a path for the livid crusader and seething blacksmith.

"Vishkar! You shall pay for your transgressions!" He swore, taking powerful, menacing steps towards the police line, who gaped in awe and fear of the giant they had angered.

Then all hell broke loose as Reinhardt unleashed his hammer upon the Vishkar attackers. There was no mercy. This was war.

Tracer turned to Angela, who was watching the bloodshed in horror, her hands covering her mouth.

"Doc. We have a mission. Now's our chance," Angela turned to Tracer somberly and nodded, gesturing for her to lead the way. Tracer took a deep breath, and blinked over the crowd, to one of the large windows. She held firmly onto the sill with one of her hands as she shot it with her pistol, causing the glass to shatter. She blinked up into the building, pulling herself n with a flip. Shortly after, the doctor drifted in, landing on the edge of the opening Tracer had created.

The room was a simple, empty office, luckily for them. It was a sterile room, with nothing but a small, steel desk, a basic office chair, a filing cabinet, and a modern computer that was turned on, with the password screen on.

Tracer blinked over to the door, carefully listening for anyone to approach as Mercy methodically when through all the cabinets in search of the password until she must have found it. Several minutes later, she nodded decisively.

"I know where Lúcio is."

"Then let's get to it." Tracer swung the door open as the mission to rescue Lúcio began.

 


	11. Missions

**_Chapter 11: Missions_**  
McCree woke up in one of the hospital beds, with Ana busily scurrying around while searching for medical supplies. The room was sterile, with a simple wooden nightstand, a pale green lamp, a few IV drips, a heart rate monitor, and various medical supplies scattered on a nearby desk. The curtains were drawn, making the light seem dimmer than it was.  
His shirt was off, Jesse noticed. Slowly, he pulled down the thin sheet. An ugly red scar with blue stitches extended from his abdomen to his side. That would hurt when he was off the pain medication.  
His left arm was also cut off right before the elbow, with a new prosthetic latch on the end, which is what was used to cover the hole from a lost limb before a robotic replacement was made. He absently noticed his left arm was nowhere to be seen, probably damaged enough to warrant repair from Torbjörn when he got back from the Vishkar mission. That’s usually where it ended up going after it was damaged. It was either perfectly fine or near destroyed. There was no in-between.  
“Captain Amari?” McCree called in what could only be described as a raspy morning voice. She snapped to attention, finally aware that Jesse was awake.  
“Oh! Glad to see you’re awake, Jesse. How are you feeling?” Ana asked after finding a bottle of soothing cream.  
“Like crap. How ‘bout yourself?” the cowboy asked calmly, trying to shake the annoying drowsy rasp in his voice.  
“I am fine as well. I apologise for the rough stitching. I’m afraid I am not as gifted in the realm of medical attention as Doctor Ziegler.” Ana continued the small talk as she rubbed the cream on McCree’s wound to make the rash go away.  
“And how’s Fareeha?”  
“She is fine as well. She will be fully recovered soon.”  
“And how’re you?”  
Ana quirked her head, raising a sceptical eyebrow. “Get to the point, McCree. We both know you’re not one for small talk.”  
McCree glared. “What’s with leavin’ us all like that? Let us think you’re dead? Didja ever think about what that did to the commander? Or Reinhardt? Or Reyes, or me, or especially Fareeha? How could you just run away and not tell us you were alive?”  
Ana sighed sadly, brushing her finger over her eyepatch gently. “On that mission, where Talon’s top ranked assassin shot me, those I was supposed to protect, who had family they needed to keep safe as well, died. I had failed to do my job. I hesitated to shoot that sniper. To shoot Amélie. I deserved death after that.”  
“Bullcrap,” McCree called immediately. “Do you know how many innocent people I’ve shot up? If someone causing innocent people to die is beyond redemption, then you’d have left me dead in a ditch years ago.”  
“Maybe that’s true, but after all that I lost on that mission, I needed time. I decided I could still do my job without the weight of other’s lives looming over my head at all times. It made it easier to protect those closest to me.”  
“We’ve been under gag orders before. We know how to keep a secret. You could’ve just told us!”  
“Then you would’ve tried to follow me. To find me. You would put yourself in harm’s way for me, which is what I wanted to avoid.”  
“That’s the dumbest crap I’ve ever heard. I’m a Blackwatch agent. I risk my neck all the time. What're one or two more times?” McCree rolled his eyes, settling for staring at the pale green curtains as Ana spoke.  
Ana shook her head. “It is one or two more times I did not wish for. Now sit still and let me apply the bandages!” she chastised as McCree stirred while she wrapped a roll of wrapping around his torso. When she was done, she let out a tired sigh. “There. Now you should try to move as little as possible for the next few days, and I’m afraid we cannot get your arm repaired until after the Vishkar mission concludes. You will need to go a few days without it. As for Genji, he will be wheelchair bound as well until Doctor Ziegler returns.”  
“So you’re just gonna sweep this under the rug?” McCree pressed, glaring daggers at her.  
“I’m sorry, Jesse. But I do not wish to discuss this further.”  
“Yes ma’am,” he replied in a way that communicated, “You know I’m not taking your bullcrap but have it your way.” “Thanks for patching me up. What happened the intruder, anyway?”  
Ana gave a small smile. “She’s in holding cell two-A. We were unable to take the Null Sector tech from her since it is physically grafted into her system. Jack and I planned on interrogating her soon,” she readily supplied, relieved at the change of topic.  
McCree quirked his head. “What kind of ‘interrogation’ are we talkin’ here?”  
“Jack and I discussed it. A Blackwatch interrogation would likely not work, given the girl’s demeanour. For now, we will use simple questioning, though she is to have someone guarding her at all times since we cannot deactivate her equipment without killing her.”  
“If nothing else, just kill her with your patented super mom ‘I’m not mad, I’m just disappointed look’ you used to get Reinhardt to have a meltdown that one time.”  
“I have to have some advantage keeping you kids alive.”  
“What happened to not wanting to have to worry about that?” McCree asked slyly, grinning.  
“Oh, go to sleep.” McCree felt a prick in his neck, saw Ana holding her dart gun, and passed out.  
…  
Tracer blinked out of the office before anyone could see her. The hallway was irritatingly barren, with blue carpeted floors and clean, white walls aside from the occasional television or Holovid projectors with the Vishkar logo and things written in a language Tracer didn't understand. Tracer ducked behind a wall in a crossroad as one of the Vishkar employees walked past, barely not spotting her.  
After whipping her head around to confirm the corridors were empty, she blinked back to the office and gestured for Mercy to follow. If there were surveillance cameras, they were done for. The doctor trailed Tracer. Her steps were quick and light, with her face still ashen from the horrendous view outside.  
Tracer blinked ahead to a large opening, where employees were bustling about like a well-oiled machine. The room was minimalistic, with an elevator next to a stairwell. The room had eight doors, two in each corner with some foreign language dictating where they led. The centre of the room had several desks with holovids and keyboards, most of which hosted someone busily typing away as though a mob wasn't at the door. A few potted plants several feet high offered mild protection from the view of the employees busily going about their days.  
Using her arms to cover her harness as best she could, Tracer blinked behind one of the plants as Mercy did the same. They both stood, inches away from each other as Tracer waited for instructions.  
"Which way?" she asked in a hushed but stressed voice.  
Mercy scanned the rooms through the surprisingly thick leaves of the plant. Her eyes settled on one of the odd signs decisively.  
Then Tracer heard someone walking towards them. He was looking _at_ them through the plant. His blue and grey suit perfectly matched the blue and grey beam ray thingy he was holding out.  
"Lead! Hurry! We're found!" Tracer shouted-slash-whispered through grit teeth.  
"That door!" Angela pointed to one of the doors on the opposite side of the room.  
Tracer grabbed onto the doctor and blinked with her in tow to the door as the beam latched onto her arm, burning through the flesh. She hissed as she dashed to the hallway, several other employees now on their tails in their variety of dichromatic uniforms.  
When Tracer reached a crossroad, she froze, holding Mercy upright as she stumbled from the blinking. "Which way?" she asked curtly, pulling out one of her pistols to defend from the Vishkar employees coming from all sides.  
"Left... then right... you'll reach a stairwell... Take it down two floors then go straight, make two rights, and one more left. It should be the fifth door on the right. The number on the door will look like an upside down question mark with..." she gasped for breath, apparently dizzy. "a line going through it that connects to an upside down J." Mercy looked close to doubling over.  
Tracer mulled this over in her head, imprinting it in her memory. Unfortunately, the left passage had two or three people guarding it. One was a man, and two were women. One woman was wearing a similar gold-trimmed white dress to the woman killed the Omnic outside. The two had uniforms that were blue and grey. Tracer absently wondered if outfit types were a symbol of rank.  
Tracer leant the near-incoherent doctor against the wall and took to fighting. She pulled out her other pistol and smiled smugly as she felt the doctor's power-boosting nanobots rush over her, giving her new strength. She gave Tracer a thumbs up, still propping herself against the wall.  
Blinking faster than any of the people could follow, she dove beside the man and felt the thrum of her guns in her hands as he screamed, the bullets biting into his back, drawing blood. He fell to the ground without a fight, curling in on himself in an attempt to make himself smaller, shivering intensely. He'd survive, though. An employee would find him before he could succumb to such a nonlethal wound.  
Tracer cried out as she felt her back burn from the other two beams, right under where she kept a pulse bomb. She activated her blink, spinning behind one of the employees, while the other tried to track her with the beam, causing it to latch onto her peer.  
The woman in gold shrieked in agony despite it only being her arm that was being burnt. Her accidental assailant gasped in horror and dropped the gun immediately. Tracer darted back over and grabbed the beam before the woman could pick it back up, letting it latch onto her leg instead. She fell to the ground in a silent heap, simultaneously trying to protect her leg and keep it away from herself. Tracer grinned in success and opted to blink to the final assailant, who was nursing her arm and hit the snooze button known as the back of her head with a powerful punch.  
With the current wave of enemies gone, Tracer grabbed the doctor again and continued blinking since more were on their way. She made a left, then a right, not letting up as she blinked faster than she had in a long time. That would do a number on the poor doctor, but she'd survive. She had a stronger constitution than most.  
Instead of running down the spiral stairs like a normal person, Tracer jumped off the balcony. The doc's wings activated, sending them into a slow-fall. Tracer carefully lined up where she needed to blink and continued on their merry way.  
More pursuers took to chasing them as she blinked by, but they'd never catch up. As employees blocked the halls, Tracer would either incapacitate them quickly or just blink around them. Really, Dr Ziegler was a trooper for making it this far.  
Tracer skidded to a sudden stop, firmly grasping the doc's wrist as inertia threatened to make her fly into the walls. This door led to Lúcio's room. A simple, grey door with some number in Hindi that matched what Angela had said. It was barren and grey and seemed to lock via a few simple latches. Perhaps it was to prevent hacking. Maybe the lack of a key was to avoid suspicion? Maybe the building wasn't originally made for Vishkar, so this was their workaround. Heck if Tracer knew or cared. She threw the locks open, and bolted into the room, tugging Angela behind her. She slammed the door shut, and set Angela on the ground, taking a quick survey of the cell. It was sterile and boring, with a metal table with two foldable seats, an empty cup, probably for water, and a paper plate with nothing but crumbs on it. The bed was just a mattress, barren of even covers, and the light was bright and annoying. Lúcio himself was on his feet to greet them, a broad yet concerned smile on his face. He was wearing a green t-shirt and jean shorts, but had just socks, and lacked shoes. His hair was down and messy, but he seemed relatively alright from the front.  
"Well, look what the cat dragged in! Overwatch in the flesh? You guys are a sight for sore eyes!"  
"Cavalry's here, love..." Tracer gasped as she put her hands on her knees to catch her breath. "Hope you don't mind waiting a while before we break you out of here."  
"What? How come? Is she okay?" Lúcio asked, gesturing to Dr Ziegler, who was unconscious on the ground, stirring uncomfortably.  
"Our cover was blown fairly quickly. I had to blink with her here. She's got exclusive technology making her constitution stronger than most, but she'll be out for a while. And there's no way you could handle blinking. It's not helpful to the body if you're not like me."  
"Whatever gets me out of here. I'll give you your own private concert when this is all done! But what are you going to do? Try to wait here until she's up and ready to go? Because Vishkar will notice my door is unlocked."  
"Do you think _you'll_ be okay with needing to wait a few hours? Have they been doing anything to you?"  
Lució sat back down on the bed, rotating his shoulders. "Don't worry about that. It's nothing I can't take. I'd rather us wait and succeed at getting out of here."  
Tracer hummed. "How long until you think they'll want to see you?"  
Lucio thought for a moment. "I'd say a few hours. Why?"  
"I have a stupid idea."  
"Those are the best kind!"  
"We'll lock ourselves in here!" Tracer put her hands on her hips proudly.  
Lúcio stumbled for a second, unsure of how to respond. "How do you plan on doing that?"  
Tracer took a deep breath, and unclasped her harness, handing it to Lúcio. "See this button?" she pointed to a small switch hidden in the harness. "Press it. Then, ten seconds later, press it again. Then again, another ten seconds later. Then, when you see me again, push it a final time."  
Lúcio nodded, unsure of what would happen. Tracer slowly backed up to the door and nodded to him. This was a horrible idea, but it was the best they had. He flipped the switch, and Tracer bit her lip as the world numbed around her. The floor felt less solid beneath her feet, and the room lost its feeling of temperature. Lúcio's eyes widened as she pressed her back to the door, not feeling anything aside from a slight coolness as she fell through it to the main hallway.  
A few seconds later, the numbness went away as Lúcio must have pressed the switch from the inside. Once she was sure she was solid, Tracer quickly threw the latch on the door, locking it. Then the numbness returned, and she phased through the door again. Lúcio's eyes softened in relief as he pressed the switch one final time, handing the harness back to Tracer.  
Tracer gasped in relief as she relished the feeling of the warm, stuffy air and cold, hard ground beneath her. Quickly throwing her harness back on, she collapsed onto the floor, surprisingly drained from all the running. She turned to Lúcio pleadingly. "Wake me up when something happens, and I'll make sure you're out of here soon."  
Lúcio nodded gratefully. "Sure, just rest up."  
Tracer fell asleep on the stone floor in seconds.  
...  
Sombra wasn't budging. That much was evident. She watched the soldier and captain in disinterest as she leant back in her chair nonchalantly, despite her bound arms. Her cell was grey and dismal, far more medieval than typical. The door was locked with a standard key instead of a scanner of some kind, and Athena had no control over the room. They couldn't risk her hacking anything.  
"Now, tell us. Why did Talon send you?" Soldier 76 slammed his arm on the table. The girl just tilted her head curiously.  
"I'm surprised to see you working here, Jack Morrison. And with Ana Amari, no less. Tell me, what made you want to return?" the girl evaded the question, raising an eyebrow.  
Ana growled. "You know full well why. How _dare_ you take my daughter?"  
Sombra sighed in mock sadness. "Unfortunately, my 'bosses' love taking the long way to achieving their goals."  
"And what would those goals be?" Jack continued, glaring at Sombra through his red visor.  
"World domination, ending the world, revenge, who knows?" Pick any cliché from the books and that could be the answer." Her musings showed the two that she had no intention of sharing her knowledge. Commander Morrison huffed, taking a step back and gesturing for Ana to try.  
"Why go on a suicide mission like this? Surely you would know better than to reveal yourself without backup." Ana pressed in hopes of finding something useful to work with.  
"Technically, I did not reveal myself. Your cybernetic ninja heard me as I ran by," she pursed her lips, feigning disgust. "I'm surprised it took him so long, though."  
Ana wrinkled her nose. "So you were trying to be caught?"  
Sombra laughed. "Why would I want to be caught?"  
The captain grunted, shaking her head in irritation. "I'm done with this nonsense. I am going to go check on Fareeha before my brain melts."  
"Careful!" Sombra taunted smugly. "She might be brainwashed!" She laughed as Ana stormed out of the room.  
Commander Morrison slammed his fist on the table, putting his fingers on his forehead. "I don't think you understand your position. Or would you like me to get an old Blackwatch member in here to remind you?"  
Sombra huffed, dauntless. "Last I checked, the only two Blackwatch members here are Genji Shimada and Jesse McCree. And I doubt they'll be in any sort of condition to 'interrogate' me, what with Angela Ziegler and Torbjörn Lindholm away on that Vishkar mission," she prattled, making it obvious she had done her homework. "And you've always liked playing boy scout, so I doubt you'd be the one to fulfil that criteria. Unless you think sweet little Lena Oxton could do it? She may as well have been a Blackwatch member with all those missions she's gone on. But she's too busy dealing with her own _problems_ to help you now, right?"  
Jack stiffened. This girl knows more than anyone should.  
"Unless you think she doesn't have her own issues to work out. But you know about her condition. Are you so stupid to believe she doesn't still suffer from it?"  
Jack shook his head vehemently. "Of course, I know she still has her trials thanks to that accident. As anyone in a similar position would."  
Sombra laughed an unnerving laugh that set Jack on edge. "Hurray! The commander has a brain! I'm amazed you haven't put two and two together yet, though!"  
"About what?"  
"Learn to do the math yourself."  
...  
_Cadet Oxton bounced up and down in her seat happily as the ship took them back to the Swiss headquarters. Her first mission was a success! They had stopped Null Sector! Granted, her leg was hurting like crazy from a few stray Bastion bullets, and that OR14 had landed a few on her arm, but even that wasn't enough to bring her mood down!_  
_"Rookie, calm down! You're going to topple the ship if you keep bouncing like that!" Lieutenant Wilhelm admonished jokingly, grinning widely._  
_Oxton blushed, forcing herself to sit still. "Sorry, Lieutenant! It's just... wow! I can't believe we succeeded! Well, I mean, or course I knew we **could** , but wow that was just... I don't know! I'm just glad we could save London!" she prattled eagerly as Reinhardt laughed._  
_Torbjörn grunted. "If you're not bouncing like a bunny, then you're chattering like a parrot, huh?" he commented snidely, though his words lacked venom. He was relieved as well._  
_"Come now, Torbjörn. Let the Cadet have her time in the sun. She performed exceptionally." Mercy grinned kindly, playfully elbowing Lena next to her._  
_Oxton blushed. "I was just trying to save my home. Plus, it's kind of my job now!"_  
_Reinhardt bellowed a hearty laugh. "She's already got the 'noble hero' role down pat! You'll fit in with us just fine, Rookie! Except for Torbjörn! He'll always be a selfish old mule!"_  
_The Dwarvish smith huffed, rolling his eyes. "A selfish old mule that dedicates hours to making bombs for your crazy missions."_  
_Reinhardt's grin melted into a playful smirk. "A bomb that took five minutes just to start up. If it weren't for the Rookie taking out those Eradicators that were on your tail, you'd be done for!"_  
_Tracer blushed, staring down at her lap. Her brand-new uniform had already been shot up, with several bullet holes surrounded with red bloodstains._  
_Mercy watched Lena, concerned. "Tracer, did you experiences any lapses with your chronal accelerator?"_  
_Tracer shook her head, grinning. "Nope! The fastener might've taken a few shots, but the actual accelerator feels a-okay!"_  
_The doctor nodded, assessing Lena from head to toe. The doctor herself had several wounds, but they already seemed to be healing after Torbjörn took the bullets out. Reinhardt and Torbjörn themselves had armour protecting them, and appeared to have gotten off easy regarding injuries. Tracer was the only one with any substantial wounds._  
_"Are you feeling okay, Lena?" Mercy pursed her lips, making a pen-tapping motion with her hand. "Where are your worst injuries?"_  
_Tracer shook her head. "I'm alright! My left leg took some stray Bastion fire, and the OR14 got my right arm before I could blink, but I'll be fine!"_  
_"Looks like we have another case of Jesse McCree!" Reinhardt chuckled to himself. "That boy wouldn't admit his injuries hurt if he was bleeding out where he stood!"_  
_"Would you like me to prepare an escort to take you to the medical wing?"_  
_Cadet Oxton sighed, "No, I can run there! I'm still on an adrenaline rush from everything that just happened! How long was the mission, anyway?"_  
_Torbjörn checked the clock on the ship. "Fifteen minutes. I'm impressed it took so long for someone so fast."_  
_"I- I'm sorry. I'll be faster next time!" Lena swore, sitting up straight._  
_Reinhardt delivered a weak punch to Torbjörn, who nearly toppled out of his seat. "That mission went far faster and better than it could have. Besides, a good five of those minutes were thanks to that bomb not wanting to start up. Tracer?"_  
_"Y-yes, Lieutenant?"_  
_"Great job on your first mission!"_  
_Tracer thought she'd never stop smiling._  
_..._  
_Tracer blinked cheerily to the medical wing, where she was met with congratulations and cheers. A few of the doctors that had worked on her, alongside some standard ones whisked her away to a hospital bed, where they quickly worked on removing any bullets. Tracer barely felt a thing thanks to the powerful painkillers, but she still felt antsy. She had just saved her city! She needed a drink and some time to relax!_  
_A few of the doctors took her harness out of the armour holding, inspecting it for damage as they cleaned it until they ultimately set it back in her casual harness, which was far less protective but a bit more lightweight._  
_She was released from the hospital bed in three hours, with strict orders to walk as little as possible and to avoid using her arm. The first place she blinked to was Winston's lab, which was nearly identical to the lab back in Gibraltar: messy. The only key difference was the white walls and blue tile floor. He was busy looking over some random gadget Tracer couldn't identify in a million years._  
_"Winston!" Tracer dove towards him, arms outstretched as she tackled him in one massive hug. They both flew backwards, nearly hitting the wall on the other side of the room. She laughed merrily as Winston gingerly wrapped his arms around her._  
_"Lena! Oh, I'm so glad you're okay! I heard the mission was a success, but I was still worried! Are you alright? Did you sustain any injuries?"_  
_Tracer started laughing. She probably sounded crazy, but she was allowed to be after everything that happened. "I'm great, Winston! I'm supposed to stay off the leg and be careful with my arm, but I'll be fine!'_  
_Winston chuckled. "That sounds like the Lena I know!"_  
_Tracer sat up, crossing her legs as she tipped from side-to-side. "Where are Genji and McCree? I need to go see them!"_  
_Winston thought for a moment. "I'd check the training field for Genji, and McCree isn't back from his recon before you guys left on the mission."_  
_Tracer nodded. "Thanks, Big Guy! I'll see you later!" Tracer zoomed through the facility, at breakneck speeds until she reached the training facility. She found Genji in the gym, which had fairly standard exercise equipment, except twice as powerful or heavy for the sake of agents like him. He was on the treadmill, likely running a solid sixty kilometres per hour._  
_"Genji!" Tracer called, similarly to Winston, barreling towards him. He was ready, flipping off the treadmill and grabbing her arm as she sailed right past him, spinning her around to keep her from running into the wall._  
_"You really need to be more careful with your_ blinks _," he chastised, probably grinning from behind his visor._  
_"Hey, I just got done saving London, gimme a break!" she whined, trying to hold down a laugh._  
_"I take it the mission went well?"_  
_"Oh, yeah! It went way better than it could have! First, we had to disable three anti-aircraft guns! The Lieutenant did that while I kept the Null Troopers off him! Then,_ Torbjörn's _bomb wouldn't start, so we had to take out Bastions, Eradicators, massive bombs, and more troops while he got it working! Once we got it to the power station, we had to fight a bunch of OR14s! I've never been so in the zone in my life! It was like 'pew pew pew! Pulse bomb! Pew pew pew!"_ Tracer _chuckled, collapsing on the bench press, in a giggly heap._  
_"Seems like a busy first mission. I'm surprised you could handle it," he teased, turning off the treadmill._  
_"Oh shut up!" Tracer returned, making a "go away" gesture Genji took with a grain of salt._  
_"Would you like to go get drinks to celebrate?" He offered a hand to help her up, which she accepted, using the sturdy_ cyborg _to pull herself upright._  
_"Nah, we can't drink without Jesse; he'd be so mad! We'll wait until he's back to celebrate!"_  
_Genji tipped his head. "I haven't heard any news about him, now that I think about it. Hopefully, he returns soon. He's likely just finishing up recon in King's Row."_  
_..._  
_It took three days for McCree to get back. In those three days, Tracer had been offered congratulations after congratulation, but she refused to celebrate without her friend. Genji and her mostly kept to themselves in the training field, waiting for someone to bring news of his arrival. When someone came to them, they knew something was wrong._  
_"Tracer, Genji. Jesse is back," Mercy had called suddenly before they even noticed her entry. If the doctor was the one telling them, it meant something was wrong. Both of them dropped what they were doing and blinked-slash-dashed to the medical wing ahead of Mercy. After a kind, though slightly afraid,_ nurse _pointed them to his room, they barged in without so much as knocking._  
_McCree was sleeping under a thin hospital blanket, and everything seemed fine at first. His heart rate was normal, and he was only on a single IV for pain. He stirred, sitting up slowly as he was awoken by the_ noisy _twosome. His blanket fell to his lap, revealing his shirtless upper body._  
_That's when it was evident he was not alright. He was covered in scrapes, cuts, and bullet wounds that were red and angry, which on its own didn't seem too bad by his standards. The real issue came with his left arm or lack thereof._  
_Instead of a normal, well and good arm, there was just a stump where his elbow should be. There wasn't even a prosthetic fastener yet. It was just a stump. He wrinkled his nose when he saw them._  
_"Can't a man get his beauty sleep...?" he moaned without conviction, rubbing his head with his right arm._  
_Genji sat down in one of the nearby chairs noiselessly. "I don't think anything can be considered 'beauty sleep' when more of your skin is wounds than healthy."_  
_Tracer's hands were to her mouth, covering her horror. "Oh, Jesse... I'm so-"_  
_"Don't be. It's just an arm. I'll be able to get a prosthetic."_  
_Genji chuckled. "Do not be so nonchalant about it. A limb made of skin and bones is far superior to one of nuts and bolts. It is one with which you are born."_  
_McCree rolled his eyes. "Spare me your sentimentality. I use Peacekeeper with my right arm. I'll live. Besides, nothin' will bring my human arm back, so there's no point in makin' a fuss. You've lost more than I have. Once I officially have more robotic parts than you is when I'm allowed to complain."_  
_Genji_ stared _. Tracer blinked over by McCree, mortified. "Oh, Jesse! I can't believe this! I wish I could have helped! Tell me if there's anything I can do for you and I'll do it!"_  
_"Woah there, first off, you've helped plenty by usin' that info I got you before the mission. Second off, I'm just happy your first mission when alright. It's always one of the hardest."_  
_Tracer shook her head. "I don't care about the mission right now!"_  
_Jesse raised an eyebrow. "Really now? Not even enough to bring a few drinks here for us to share? I say we need to celebrate, and I say I need some happy juice."_  
_"Well... maybe I care just a little bit!"_  
_McCree laughed. "Good! Now get some liquor! I'm thirsty, alright?"_  
_"Is it not a bad idea to drink while on medication like you are?" Genji asked, perplexed._  
_"When has that ever stopped him?" Lena called, laughing as she blinked out of the room._  
_"Fair point," she heard Genji call from the room._  
_It was only then that Lena let her smile drop as she shed a tear, mourning for what Jesse refused to regret._  
...  
Tracer awoke with a start. **Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.** Tracer blanched, jumping up as the beeping continued for several seconds. No. No! No no no!  
Lucio watched her with wide eyes. "Why'd your harness beep like that?" His voice shook as he spoke, sensing Tracer's fear.  
"Oh no... Oh no... It's a low power warning! I only have fifteen percent power left on the primary reserve for my harness! I must've blinked too much!"  
He was silent for several seconds. "What happens when that depletes?"  
"It goes into backup power, which I can override for full effect, but it only lasts about ten minutes like that!"  
"What's wrong with the backup power?"  
"Let's just say I'll start having issues. You saw what happens without it!"  
"Look, calm down," Lucio chided, easing himself up and setting a hand on her shoulder. We'll be out of here fast if we can leave now. I'll wake the doctor up, and we can bust out of here. How long do you think we have?"  
"Assuming I blink as much as I did to get to your room in the first place? I'd say an hour to get back to the ship before we go into backup power."  
"Then we'd better hurry."  
"Probably." This was _not_ something Lena wanted to deal with alongside the now worse headache. But alas, they were on a time crunch now.


	12. Battery

**Chapter 12: Battery**

Tracer paced back and forth as Lúcio woke the doctor up. Angela put her hand to her head and groaned, slowly uncoiling herself from the tight ball she had fallen asleep in.

“Heya, Doctor Ziegler. I’m uh- sorry to wake you up, but you wouldn’t mind busting me out of here, would you?” Lúcio bounced up and down as he waited for a response, almost mimicking Tracer’s antsy pacing.

“I- ugh… my head. What’s going on? Where are we?” Angela moaned, planting her hands on the ground as she forced herself into the sitting position. She stared around the room, and at Tracer, slowly trying to process what was going on. This would not work for Tracer.

“Doctor, come on! We gotta go! I had to blink you to this room! I’m sorry if you aren’t feeling the best after all that, but we don’t have time! Let’s go!”

“That would explain why I feel so sick…”

“Come on! Hurry up!” tracer snapped, grabbing the doctor’s arm and yanking her upward. She stumbled against the wall, using it for support. “I only have an hour! One hour! So, hurry up!” Tracer nearly shouted, already unclasping her harness and dumping it into Lúcio’s arms. He set his hand gently on her shoulder.

“Hey, don’t worry. We’ll be getting there in time. I don’t plan on letting anything happen just because you came to save me.”

Tracer shook her head, running to the back of the door. “Just hurry up. We have to get your gear and go!”

“Lena, please. Calm yourself you cannot let yourself stress over this-“

“Stress?! You want me to not stress? Well how about you get lost in time, then decide if the idea stresses you! Now press the button!”

Lúcio and Angela had exchanged a glance before the pounding in Lena’s head faded, dragging the rest of her senses with her. She mentally sighed and phased through the wall thoughtlessly. Then she realised there were small, white orbs attached to the doorframe outside. Oh, crap.

Tracer felt herself snap back into reality, the headache returning at full force. Tracer made her move to unclasp the door locks. The orbs seemed to rotate, blue centers staring right at her.

Then they started burning her. Nine beams from all directions closed down on her as soon as she unclasped the door. They tore into her flesh, simultaneously freezing and scorching. She doubled over, breathing fast as she flipped out a pistol, struggling to keep hold as she fell onto her shoulder. She pulled the trigger and haphazardly shot the gun in all directions. She heard the sounds of creaking metal as the beam turrets dropped to the ground as the burning faded, a sharp, incessant pain remaining.

“What the heck happened?” Lúcio barreled through the door with her harness in his arms.

“Oh, dear… Lena!” Dr Ziegler pulled out her Caduceus staff, engaging the healing stream as the bots quickly worked to heal what they could while Tracer lied on the ground, breathing heavy.

She wheezed. “Those were beam turrets… ugh… Headache… Everything hurts.” Tracer shook her head, huffing as the pain eased and the blood stopped flowing through the burns. The headache was still there, though.

“Lena, you still have a headache?”

“Look, I kinda have an everything ache right now. But I don’t care about that. We just need to hurry and get Lúcio’s stuff. You wouldn’t happen to know where they might be keeping his stuff?” Tracer pushed herself against the door and used it to push herself onto her feet, quickly regaining her footing. She already began walking away when Dr. Ziegler put her hand on Tracer’s shoulder, stopping her. Tracer hissed as a fresh wave of pain surged through her burnt skin.

“Lena, I am concerned about your health. You have had this headache for longer than natural, and you have not been acting like yourself as of late.”

“Just hush up! I don’t have time for your psychoanalysis! My harness is almost dead, so let’s get Lúcio out of here already!”

“I have time to worry about your health!”

“Well, I don’t! Look, you wanna worry about my health? Well, I just got smothered by those beam turret things and I’m about to have to take a trip through time and space, so how about worrying about that, first?” Tracer turned to Lúcio, who had been hanging back during the spat. “Can you walk okay?” she asked, considerably gentler.

“Oh, yeah. I’m fine! My back has been killing me, but it’s nothing that’ll stop me from kicking! Let’s just get my skates and soundpack back!” he seemed to totally let go of the earlier argument. It was then Tracer noticed he had been walking with his back unusually stiff.

Dr. Ziegler nodded numbly, putting on her business face. “The gear should be this way. Follow me. Tracer, watch our backs, please.” She began a speedy jog down the right corridor. Lúcio followed, and it wasn’t until he had passed Tracer that she noticed the back of his shirt was coated in dried, crimson blood. Huh. Guess he didn’t get through a few meetings with Vishkar as smoothly as she first thought.

…

Sombra lazily leaned against the wall in the back corner of her cell. After a quick scan, she was able to find that there were no cameras in her room due to them knowing it’d be useless if she wanted to disable them. Fareeha Amari had been allowed to watch guard, much to Sombra’s surprise. The captain must have been able to convince everyone that she wasn’t brainwashed or anything of the sort. That was good.

Fareeha, clad in a red sweater and kakis, watched her suspiciously as she pressed the coloured buttons on her HoloVid projectors. Each time she pressed the little squares, a distinct note played back to her. There were five rows of buttons, all different colors, varying in instruments as well.

“What is that you are doing?” the security guard glared as Sombra continued with her toy.

“Oh, nothing. It’s just a little music software. Purely for entertainment purposes.”

Fareeha just sat back in her foldable chair and watched.

Thankfully, the buttons were in QWERTY. It was easy to type a message on them. She pressed the notes as the sequence appeared in front of her. It was somewhat annoying to have to substitute letters for shapes and colors in her mind, but it was nothing she could not do. Sombra let the sequence repeat back to herself as she reread her message.

**Hey, Gabe. Things are going swimmingly here. I’m all locked up, and the target went on a mission.**

The song sequence sounded odd and unnatural, but was rhythmic enough for Fareeha to be fooled into thinking she was just playing a rhythm game. Sombra stood up and stretched, hopping into the bed on her stomach, with her HoloVid still projecting the music game. There was a slight blip in the bottom of her screen telling her Reaper had responded. The micro earpiece, borderline invisible, buzzed as his gruff voice croaked unnaturally.

“Did you activate the device?”

Sombra rolled her eyes and typed a new musical sequence. That translated into letters on Gabe’s end. **Ugh. Of course, I did. She doesn’t suspect a thing, and she’s definitely been feeling the effects. She still thinks it’s just a headache. Her teammates are beginning to take notice though, which might be even more fortunate for us.**

There was a pause as the message sent to him as the music played in the room.

“How long until we can proceed with the plan?” he sounded impatient and almost eager.

**_Relájate._ Based off the videos I managed to watch when nobody was looking; I’d say she has a few days until the “snap.” Patent pending.**

“Are you prepared to transport back here when ready?” he recited, despite knowing full well Sombra was prepared.

**As long as you haven’t messed with my stuff. Just make sure everything is prepared on your end. I don’t feel like sitting in prison a second time to get what you need.**

“There will be no escape once things are in my hands,” Sombra would’ve shivered if she was on the receiving end of that threat. He sounded all-too-excited for what would occur, not that it was of any consequence to her.

Fareeha Amari snorted from her seat. “You know, you have a terrible taste in music.”

Sombra laughed. “So I’ve been told. So, Amari, how have things been with your mother?”

The guard watched her suspiciously. “What’s it to you?”

“Just trying to make small talk. There really isn’t a ton to do beyond stupid music games.” Sombra spun her hand, shutting off the message HoloVid.

“We are doing fine,” she answered curtly, afraid Sombra would have some way to twist her words.

“And what of poor Jesse and Genji? Unfortunately, I had to use a few toys of mine to avoid dying in that fight. Basic self-defense. It’s such a _pity_ they were harmed like they were.” Sombra shook her head in mock sadness.

“They are healing. You have done far from cripple them, if that was your goal,” Fareeha spat, her voice full of venom.

“Oh, I forgot it might be a sore spot for you, given they were so close to you in your youth,” she prodded, smirking as Fareeha’s fiery glare attempted to melt her where she stood.

“Do you enjoy this?” her voice was cold and calm. Sombra quirked her head curiously.

“Enjoy what?” she asked innocently.

“Do you enjoy using words to hurt others? To twist situations with the sole purpose of harm?”

Sombra hummed, semi-pensively. “Why wouldn’t I? I get the best of reactions out of people. They get angry, and that makes them easy to control.”

“Is it worth it, though? To harm the minds of people solely for your own gain?” she pressed, watching Sombra with her hands folded in her lap.

“So far? Yeah, I’d say it is. Emotions are temporary. People can figure it out,” Sombra declared, fiddling with the wires on her nails.

“And what happens when you encounter someone who cannot recover thanks to you?” Amari asked rhetorically, leaning towards her prisoner.

“If I encounter someone who cannot get over a few emotional issues or hurt feelings, then it’s not my fault if they’re weak,” Sombra mused casually, lying back on the bed and staring at the ceiling.

Fareeha shook her head sadly. “That is far from true. Those that hold hurt, caged deep within them, are often the strongest of us all. Do you feel joy from watching it consume them whole?”

Sombra chuckled, bouncing her leg in boredom. “It is kind of funny, yeah.”

“And what if it was someone close to you?”

“I suppose that’s the key, isn’t it? I have nobody close to me, _amiga_.”

…

 **“YOU VISHKAR SCUM! SHOW YOURSELVES, YOU COWARDS!”** Reinhardt bellowed from their stairway, a small army of civilians behind him. **“WHERE ARE YOU KEEPING OUR COMRADES?”**

It had been roughly three hours since Tracer and Mercy had gone to find Lúcio, and their absence was beginning to worry the twosome. Torbjörn was fiddling with a tablet in a far more passive manner from a rooftop.

The crowd roared with him.

“Release Lúcio!”

“Leave Numbani!”

“You’re not wanted here!”

News cars had begun flocking the area, never daring to get close enough to the mob. Any law enforcement that had come was unsure of where to point their guns. Any attempt to shoot the civilians did nothing but elicit rage from the massive crusader.

Medical workers had been scurrying around the mob, picking up the wounded and dead and carrying them to ambulances. The local OR15 units had established barriers around the civilians as well. All Vishkar employees had disappeared into their workplace, with a thin line of terrified police being all that kept the crowd at bay.

The only thing that kept Reinhardt from charging right through the doors was the fact that this mission could determine how hard it would be for the Petras Act to be recanted.

Any attempts Vishkar had made to attack the citizens had been quickly stopped with the threat of the crusader’s massive hammer. Now it was a matter of buying time and hoping their comrades made it out safely.

 **“Hey! Everyone!”** a new voice cried from several floors up on the building. Cheers erupted as the horde saw it was Lúcio, in the flesh. He was wearing bright green roller blades, had some sort of metallic device on his back, and his signature sound gun that was acting like a megaphone.

 **“I am perfectly safe, thanks to Overwatch here!”** Cheers again, along with sounds of general confusion. **“Don’t ever let this horrible company take away your freedom! Always keep fighting! When I come here on tour, I expect to see everyone free to live as they choose!”** The roar of the crowd was louder than the thunder as Lúcio held his fist up triumphantly from the broken windowsill.

Reinhardt noticed a bright blue blur rush bound past Lúcio, flipping across the rooftops in a beeline for the dropship. It must’ve been Tracer. Hopefully, she was not harmed. Reinhardt knew she’d be okay though. She was a tough soldier.

 **“Now, I’ll keep in touch! See you later, Numbani!”** he cried in excitement, launching himself from the building, holding onto the walls with his skates and glove as he used his momentum to launch himself from building to building as the crowd cheered. Mercy followed behind him, her face gentle and passive as she avoided watching the crowd. Now was a good a time as any, Reinhardt decided.

He stepped atop the stairs, quickly brushing the police aside as the crowd miraculously quieted. “Vishkar! Never harm these civilians again! If I catch wind of this happening anywhere else, ever again, there will be no forgiveness! You have ended lives today, and for what? You’ve gained nothing! Detaining anyone as you have is unforgivable, but I will let you go today, because that is what Overwatch does. We show mercy and kindness where there is none! We aim to save lives, not continue grudges! And if anyone ever threatens the people of this world again, we will be there! We will do whatever it takes to fix what humans and Omnics alike have broken in this world, because that is what we do! That is what we fight for!” Reinhardt let the words sink in as the crowd stared.

“Well, Vishkar? What do you fight for!? Because the bodies in the ambulances show that it definitely isn’t the preservation of lives! Is killing in cold blood truly the best way to pave the roads for a better future?! Because that sounds like a war! And that is not what war does! I have fought in war, and it does anything but pave the future in positivity! It preserves the bitter remains of the world that can be salvaged! It holds together pieces that can only be reassembled in times of peace! War will not bring joy! War brings nothing but pain and sorrow! Is that truly what anyone wishes to start? Ask yourself this the next time you use a beam weapon on an innocent civilian!” Reinhardt turned his gaze on the crowd.

“And you guys! You fought for what you believe in! I applaud your courage! However, do not endanger yourselves, or others needlessly as you have! Stirring conflict will not bring a mutual respect! Let us soldiers and agents fight the war! That’s why we do it! We fight to keep you all out of it! That is what we stand for! That is Overwatch!”

Reinhardt thrust his hammer over his head as a tidal wave of overjoyed cheers, determined battle cries, and triumphant roars swept over the crowd, drowning out anything the officers, sirens, or Vishkar speakers could make. The foundation of buildings seemed to quake as Reinhardt marched through the crowd, Torbjörn watching from above with something akin to a smile. He was holding a camera.

It was time to head back to the ship. Reinhardt needed a drink.

…

Mercy bounced back and forth from tending to Lúcio to tending to Lena as Torbjörn flew the ship. Lúcio was on his stomach in the dropship at her command as she rubbed some disinfectant on his back. It was horribly mangled, dried gashes with smeared blood coated his back. They were whip marks. Vishkar had used a whip on Lúcio. It was horrific, that such a supposedly hi-tech company would use such a barbaric and cruel means of punishment.

The doctor hummed quietly in an attempt to soothe herself as she used rudimentary medical equipment to treat his wounds.

When his whip marks were treated, Mercy sighed and turned to Lena. She was horribly burnt in several locations, but Angela couldn’t deal with her if she tried. She was on backup power. Lena curled over her harness in some desperate attempt to be as stabilized as possible. Her form was still present, she was in no danger of fading through time, but she was partially non-corporeal. She could still phase through objects, though not nearly as quickly as when she does not have her accelerator.

Her eyes were squeezed shut, and she was biting her lip. Her legs were bent and she had herself pressed to the wall of the jet, which was too thick for her to phase through. Her face was ashen as she hugged her harness with her head tucked down. She didn’t seem to notice the small wires she phased through.

“Reinhardt, could you please contact Winston, and order two hospital beds and Lena’s charger be brought to the hangar?”

“Of course,” he answered quietly, reaching for one of the jet’s HoloVid projectors to contact Winston. Reinhardt hated acknowledging Lena’s chronal disassociation. He felt like he was alienating her. Angela didn’t exactly agree with his philosophy, but she could understand it.

Torbjörn grunted from the cockpit, calling for Mercy’s attention. She hurried up, hoping to get back to her patients quickly.

“Hello, Torbjörn. What is the matter? Were you injured, as well?” he didn’t even look at her as he spoke.

“Is there really no way to extend the power source on that thing? Or to do some cybernetic enhancements so it can use more organic energy? I’m getting kind of sick of needing to watch a battery regularly bring this girl to her knees.”

Dr Ziegler sighed. “Perhaps. If we were to invest the research into it, I’m sure we could harness the natural chronal energy Lena generates, but it would take a toll on her, more likely than not. And integrating it directly into her body could do more harm than good.”

Torbjörn rolled his eyes. “It’s getting pretty irritating, having to listen to her squabble about it, though. Whose idea was it to stick her in that jet anyway? I think they needed to run a few more dummy tests.”

Mercy glared at him, until the ragged coughs of Lúcio called her away.

…

Tracer woke up gasping for breath as terror clutched her heart in a vice grip. Flashes of blood and screaming echoed through her head from her latest dream. Her head continued to pound as she re-oriented herself. There was a dresser next to her with a simple lamp on it, and a few meters from her bed was a desk full of medical equipment. Another stupid IV drip was hooked up to her arm, and she was clearly in a hospital bed. Wonderful. The only source of light came from her chronal accelerator, which was charging nearby.

Tracer was bandaged in several locations. Her hospital gown covered up her torso, which was almost entirely wrapped. Her right shoulder was hard to move thanks to the wrappings, her left calf also had a fair amount of it, and her left upper arm was equally as mummified. There was a dull sting underneath it all, not hidden by the painkillers. Those burns must have been bad. Her head continued to hammer itself, though.

In a nearby seat, fast asleep yet still sitting up was Jesse, with his head tipped into his arm.

“Jesse? What are you doing here?” Tracer called out as he woke up with a start, her voice rough and tired.

“Oh, Lena! Glad to see you’re awake. How ya feelin’? Them turrets really did a number on ya.” He sat up straight. Only then did Tracer notice that his prosthetic arm was missing.

“I’m… fine, what the heck happened to you though? You look disastrous.”

“Someone attacked while you were gone. Genji and I managed to capture her, but we’re a little worse for wear after all of it,” he admitted almost sheepishly.

“Who attacked? Was she alone? Who would be that stupid?” Tracer demanded, leaning up against the bed with a slight groan.

“She goes by Sombra. We don’t have nothin’ on her profile, identity, or anythin’ like that. All I know was that she was using Null Sector tech, and that made for a rough fight.”

“What? Null Sector? How did she ever get her hands on that?” Tracer nearly jumped out of the bed, prepared to question the girl herself.

“Woah there, Lena! Don’t go hoppin’ out of bed yet! We don’t know how she got that tech, but she seems to have a knack for findin’ toys that don’t belong to her.”

Tracer grit her teeth. “Stupid! Doesn’t she know how many lives Null Sector destroyed? Does she have no conscious? No sense of pity? Null Sector killed hundreds! And here she is, just pillaging their technology like it’s nothing!” Tracer threw the covers off and rose to leave the bed. Jesse used his good arm to push her back onto the bed, despite her struggling. “Let me go! I have to show her! I have to make her pay for using that tech!”

“Lena, no way! You’re not well right now! Just wait until you’re at least a little bit healed to try and talk to her! She’ll just get under your skin right now!”

“What makes you think she’ll get under my skin? I’m fine!”

“No, I’d say your far from fine! You’ve been actin’ nothin’ but off for the past while! The doc told me! You’ve been moody, had a headache that hasn’t gone away, and not to mention the fact that you’ve been tossin’ and turnin’ in your sleep like nobody’s business!” McCree listed, glaring at her beneath him as she hissed in pain from the pressure on her shoulder, twisting aside to try to throw him off. He let up on the pressure, but was intent on not letting her leave the bed. “Look at yourself right now! Since when do you get this upset? What happened to perky and happy?”

“You know it’s fake, I know it’s fake, stop pretending my cheeriness was me!” Tracer screamed, forcing his arm off her as she spat her words at him.

“No, it’s not! Do you act cheerful every now and again, yeah, ya do! Are ya sad every now and again? Yeah, duh! But what happened to the Lena that just wants to help people? To make the world a better place? Because this Lena sure ain’t that Lena! You’ve been nothing but a snarky pill ever since you got back from the Shimada mission!” He retorted, thrusting her back on the bed as she tried to get off.

“You wouldn’t know that’s me! You know nothing about me!”

“Not true! I know ya better than most, so stop pretending like nothing is wrong and tell me why you’ve been like this!”

“I don’t know; maybe it’s because I have to deal with reliving mistakes that aren’t even mine!” Jesse’s face went from anger to surprise in an instant. He quieted, bowing his head ever so slightly with a threatening glare, daring her to leave the bed. She continued.

“I got ‘lucky’ enough to be picked for that dumb flight! Then I have to waste a year away, watching everyone grow around me as I’m stuck as a science experiment in a cage! Every so often, when I do leave the cage, it’s to watch as you murder civilians in the Deadlock gang, or to see Morrison leading his men to a massacre in the Omnic Crisis! I never got to do anything on my own! I always had to pay for **your** mistakes!” her voice hitched, and her ugly expression melded into that of loathing and sorrow as a thin stream of tears flowed from her glaring eyes. McCree recoiled as if struck. The Deadlock gang. That was nothing but regrets.

“So, excuse me if I have some misgivings with the situation at hand! And guess what? That’s not it! Not only am I just a killing science experiment, I’m on a battery! If a hotel’s outlets are weak, if my chord breaks, or God forbid the charging port is damaged, I get to do it all again! I get to relive things that aren’t even my fault! Tell me, how the hell do you expect me to stay perky like that? Because I would genuinely like to know! At any moment, if I forget to plug into my machines, my **life support,** then I get to suffer for it! I’m no less a robot than Genji or the Omnics! Want to know the difference though, between the Omnics and me?” She looked away, trying to melt the curtains with her venomous glare.

“They can survive on their own. They don’t constantly have to worry about what may happen if there isn’t an outlet in the hotel they hunker in! They don’t have to worry about whether or not they’re going to have to die over and over again the next time they **can’t** charge a stupid battery! They don’t need to worry about whether, if they do get lost, if someone will even be **capable** of helping them if they want to!” She paused, taking a deep, hoarse breath. McCree watched with wide eyes, mouth ajar.

“So, Jesse. Tell me. How do you honestly expect me to play the optimist in this mess? Tell me! I’d **love** to know!”

“Do ya really wanna know why I do? Let me tell you!” Jesse announced with renewed frustration. “It’s because you’re a good person! Because you care! You have motivations! You want to be the best you can be to help the world!”

Her words were sombre and hushed, smooth and cold. “Well, maybe I’m not as good a person as you think I am. You don’t want me to talk some sense into Sombra? Fine. I’m going to my room. Leave me alone.” With that, Tracer yanked out the IV drip, ran to grab her harness and charger, and blinked out of the room as McCree just watched.

He had never been more certain that something was wrong with his sister. He knew the “cold, heartless, and selfish” type. That was him before Blackwatch. That was Talon. That was definitely not Lena, though. Something was wrong. Someone had said something to her, or hurt her in some way. He didn’t know for certain, but he had his suspicions. All he knew for sure was that there was no way that was Lena talking there.

…

Sombra continued tapping on the music game as she began writing the message to Gabe. Her earpiece had started playing the audio it recorded from the bug on Tracer’s harness. She kicked her legs, which were hanging off the bed as she tapped the music notes.

**Good news. Your little cowboy pupil has been prodding the hornet’s nest. Things should go even quicker than before.**

About ten seconds later, Reaper’s gruff voice cut through. “He is not my pupil. Regardless, just do whatever is necessary.”  
**If my hunch is right, then she’ll be coming to “visit” me soon. I can get her properly riled up in no time. She has no idea.**

“Good. Get her as upset as possible.”

**In her condition? Oh, she’ll be fuming. It’ll be mere hours after that.**

“Keep me posted.”

**Aye aye, _sir_. Say, any chance I can get a raise from all this?**

“No way in hell.”

 **Aw. Just thought I’d ask.** Sombra sighed in contentment, waving her hand to shut off her game. Now was when the fun began. This is when Lena Oxton would be no more. What use is there for a weakling, anyway? Tracer was much more useful.


	13. Snap

** Chapter 13: Snap **

 

D.va yawned as the news played on the television in her room. MEKA was kind enough to give all squads enough bunk beds for each member, a drawer for all of them, a desk for each member, and a large television with several HDMI ports for gaming-adjacent to a decent sized sofa. Despite all the training they went through, MEKA usually respected the fact that they were professional gamers, in the end, and playing games would help them control their mechs in the long run. Posters and electronics littered the room in chaotic segments in a desperate but futile attempt to keep the squad’s game equipment separate.

Hana didn’t know _why_ she had chosen to have the news on, of all things. It was early in the morning, maybe four a.m. She and her squad would have to get moving in an hour, but they had a bit of time before that. Spiders were on his top bunk, half off the bed as he hung upside down while watching what was going on. Somehow, he was managing to drink a mug of coffee with three notches on it at varying heights. The line at the top had “Shhh.” Written by it. A little bit down was another line with “Still tired” next to it. At the bottom was the final line, that said: “Now you may speak to me.” His coffee was still near the top, so nobody questioned Seasick’s antics. He was in baby blue pyjamas, and would likely be the last to be ready to go to training.

Q-Ball was paying zero attention to the television as he played on his gaming setup at his desk despite the early hour. He was already in his battle suit (A.K.A Spandex) and looked jumpy enough to reach the moon. Asi was still sleeping, though. She usually woke up last.

D.va yawned again, louder this time as the reporter droned on about MEKA’s recent exploits concerning the Omnic in the Sea.

“MEKA had succeeded in wiping out an entire branch of the Omnic in the Sea, which had been threatening to attack any day now. The death toll was barely a dozen, much smaller than it would have been had the God program attacked.” Seasick grunted something incoherent, and Q-Ball huffed, having heard the report despite the headphones he was wearing. Hana gripped the frame of her bed in outrage. She hated it when the world just seemed to gloss over the deaths that _did_ occur. No mention, no honour, no _acknowledgement._ It was infuriating.

“In other news, three days ago, former Overwatch Lieutenant Reinhardt Wilhelm made an appearance at the Numbani protest against Vishkar. After Lúcio Correia dos Santos, composer of Synaesthesia Auditiva had seemingly been unwillingly detained, a small band of former Overwatch agents had liberated him. Those spotted at the event included Tracer, Reinhardt, Mercy, and Torbörn. Sadly, things took a turn for the tragic as Vishkar attacked a protesting Omnic, killing him. Overall, ten deaths and fifteen injured were counted in the protest,” the reporter monotonously read from her scripts in Korean. D.va sat up, intrigued by the news report. Q-Ball had paused his game and turned to watch the report as well, as propaganda images of the respective agents were shown on screen next to haphazardly recorded video footage.

“Finally, after three days of on and off deliberation with the new leader of the reformed Overwatch, Winston, a genetically modified gorilla” a picture of a blueish Gorilla wearing glasses popped up on screen. “The Petras Act, stating that all Overwatch activity is illegal, has finally been recanted. Overwatch is now a legal organisation, free to work in public under the watchful eye of the UK.”

Hana quirked her head, turning to Q-Ball, who exchanged a significant glance with her. “Woah, Overwatch is back, huh? Let’s hope no more headquarters explode this time,” Q-Ball joked indifferently. “Surprised it went this quick, though. Wonder what could’ve made such an impact.”

The news reporter continued. “Part of the hastened recanting of the Petras Act can be due in part to public protests after Mr Wilhelm’s speech.”

“Oh,” Q-Ball tacked on, propping his feet on the desk as he listened. A video shot from a rooftop captured the Crusader in his full glory, holding his massive hammer over his head as though it were plastic. It was a passionate speech as his voice echoed through the clearing without so much as a megaphone.”

_“And you guys! You fought for what you believe in! I applaud your courage! However, do not endanger yourselves, or others needlessly as you have! Stirring conflict will not bring a mutual respect! Let us soldiers and agents fight the war! That’s why we do it! We fight to keep you all out of it! That is what we stand for! That is Overwatch!”_

“Now, back to you, Carl.” Hana shut off the news report, taking a deep breath.

“Well, if that wasn’t inspirational.”

Q-Ball snorted. “No kidding. Dude is passionate. I wonder if Overwatch would be willing to help us out with the Omnic in the Sea?”

Hana sighed. “I wouldn’t get your hopes up. They only just got back together. Odds are there aren’t many agents to work with.” Hana flopped back on her bed, fiddling with a pillow shaped like her bunny emblem.

“Pity. I was hoping I could get a few autographs, maybe auction them off to my stream.”

Hana snorted, throwing the pillow at him, which he caught effortlessly and tossed back to her “You’re horrible, you know that?” She declared with a laugh as the pillow landed on her face.

“Tell me something I don’t know,” he joked back, grabbing his headphones to finish his game. The intercom in their room buzzed. That was weird. Their handlers weren’t supposed to call them for another hour or so. Q-Ball paused, tilting his head to listen with D.va

 **“Hana Song, your presence is required in the commander’s office. Please head directly to the leader’s office,”** A Korean male voice recited emotionlessly.

“Wuh-oh. What’d you do to piss off the boss?” Q-Ball teased, turning back to his game.

Hana groaned, struggling off the bed and stretching, grateful she had chosen to get ready earlier than usual. “Hell if I know. He probably just wants to get onto me for our distinct love for our handlers that we show, as usual.”

“Yeah, what a killjoy,” Q-Ball whined good-naturedly. “Well, good luck! Hope you live to see the next mission!”

“Oh no, it's a nightmare scenario. Can I just die now?” Hana chuckled as she strode over to the door. “Rock and a hard place for sure.”

“Have fun!” Q-Ball teased as he waved to her with a sadistic smile. D.va loved her squad.

…

Tracer leant against the wall of the back of the debriefing room, which was one of the random rooms in Gibraltar with a long table and some standard chairs. A window overlooked the bright blue sea that trailed on for miles. It was pretty.

Spirits were high as Winston cleared his throat. “So, thanks to Reinhardt’s speech, after several days, we have finally gotten the Petras act recanted!” Cheers erupted through the room, worsening Tracer’s headache. She watched in indifference, bandages still wrapping her burns. “Overwatch is once again a legal organisation, though we are under the watchful eye of the UK, we still have a fair amount of freedom in how we operate.” Winston fiddled with a small stack of papers in front of him. “Several companies are offering their services, sending their own agents to work with us in a sort of partnership. I know it might seem odd, but we are all aware we are short-staffed, and having agents from various organisations can help us keep peace and play ambassador should the need arise.”

Jesse leant back in his chair, kicking his feet up on the table. “So in other words, we’ll be able to handle more than one or two missions at a time.”

Winton nodded, adjusting his glasses. “Precisely. Helix Security International has already given permission for Pharah to stay, and we have gotten in touch with several other companies as well.”

“Like who?” Ana inquired, sipping the tea in front of her.

“MEKA has agreed to send us one of their best in exchange for sending them help if the Omnic in the Sea mounts a major attack. The Russian Army is more stubborn regarding cooperating but have not declined yet. Vishkar even agreed to send us someone.”

Lúcio jumped up from his seat, slamming his fists on the table. “Vishkar!? Why would you let them send an agent to us?! They’ll probably stab us in the back or try to destroy Overwatch again! Besides, you guys attacked them! Why would they want to send us an agent!”

Winston sighed, looking away. “I know it is a sore spot for you, but it would be counterproductive to what I just said to not allow them to send someone. They do seek influence in Overwatch, but this can be used as a double-edged sword, giving us some control the other way as well. Like it or not, it is the best choice.”

Lúcio huffed, flopping down in the chair, mindful to not let his back touch it due to the injuries he still sported. He glared downward at the table but didn’t offer any other objections.

Genji piped up, finally back on his feet after the doctor repaired his knee. “I know at least two others that would be willing to join us. I will work on getting in contact with them. Winston nodded, writing that on a sheet of paper.

Lúcio huffed, still upset about Vishkar. “I have some connections in Numbani as well.”

Ana chuckled. “It might be pricey, but I have some old ‘business associates’ that I could get in contact with as well.”

Winston furiously took notes, smiling with excitement.

Torbjörn grunted. “If we’re having a contest or such, I have a new ‘friend’ I’ve been working on repairing. I’m sure it’ll be thrilled to bits to help us.” Despite the confusion, Winston continued making a note of that. A few people shot him a weird look.

Winston rubbed his hands together. “Wonderful! Altogether we will have around twenty field agents! I’d say that is a decent way to start out!”

Jesse did a finger gun. “This is all well and good, but I guess you have a mission in mind for us?”

Winston nodded. “In fact, I do, though it won’t require firepower. It has been recently brought to my attention,” Tracer couldn’t help but notice how he carefully avoided her stony gaze. “that the staff from the base in Ecopoint: Antarctica froze themselves in cryostasis, meaning they might still be alive. We’re going to send a search and rescue team there to find the climatologists and to see what we can salvage from the base.”

Commander Morrison nodded. “Who all do you plan to have go?”

Winston flipped to another set of notes he took. “Dr Ziegler and Captain Amari, mostly due to their prowess in the medical field to help anyone that survived. I was hoping you would come as well, Commander Morrison, on the off chance we do need firepower. I will go as well to see if we can salvage any of the research. Lieutenant Wilhelm, could you come as well in case we need to do some heavy lifting?”

Reinhardt bellowed a laugh. “Of course! I would be a hypocrite to ignore someone in need!”

McCree thought for a moment. “That would leave me, Genji, Lena, Lúcio, Fareeha, and Torbjörn to watch Gibraltar.”

Winston nodded again. “Yes. It will give you all more time to recover, though I know you are more than capable of handling yourselves should something happen.”

“And what of our little ‘friend’ we have holed up in that old cell?”

“Just make sure she has someone watching her at all times. Fareeha has been kind enough to do so for now, but she could probably use a break.”

“I’m on it.” Tracer piped up from her corner of the room. She could practically taste the unease in the chamber. Everyone seemed so intent on pointing out how “off” she was acting.

Winston shuffled the papers nervously, “Uh, Lena, are you sure? You might want to wait until you recover a bit more, I’m sure Genji would be happy to watch instead or something like that.”

Tracer put her hand up, cutting him off. “No, I’m fine. I’ll be watching Sombra. Come get me if something important happens.” Tracer blinked off before anyone could stop her.

…

Sombra smirked from behind the bars as Tracer entered the cell. She exchanged glances with Fareeha, who nodded appreciatively and the time-travelling agent take her spot, leaving the room without so much as a word.

“So, the poster girl is here to watch me at last. What an honour!” Sombra teased, kicking back on her bed. “How have you been? Chronal disassociation been treating you well?”

Tracer rolled her eyes and said nothing.

“Aw, what? I get to be graced by the happy-go-lucky Tracer’s presence, and she won’t speak to me? What a _shame!_ ”

Tracer still said nothing, sitting on the chair awkwardly as her harness forced her to hold herself onto the edge of it. Sombra just chuckled.

“You know, you could take a load off. I’m sure you’ll live a few inches away from that little teleportation toy you have there.” Tracer glared. No way in hell was she taking her accelerator off around this girl.

“Man, you really are going to be silent, huh? Fine, I’ll be playing music games.” True to her word, the hacker used her Null Sector projector HoloVid to pull up some odd music game, where she repeatedly composed horrible songs and played them back to herself. Tracer just glared.

…

It had been an hour of Tracer watching Sombra until she stopped playing the music game. She nonchalantly flipped over to some files full of number and pictures that Tracer could make out from the opposite side of the projection. It included a picture of her harness from when Talon had it. Tracer piped up, her voice was cold.

“Where did you learn to fix my harness?”

“Gasp! The girl has a voice! Who’da thunk it!” Sombra taunted, still scrolling through the file.

“Where did you learn to fix my harness?” she repeated, her gaze menacing.

“I didn’t learn to fix your harness _specifically,_ I just used some old designs of mine.”

“Designs for _what?_ ”

“Wanna see? Don’t worry, it’s deactivated. I swear I can’t teleport to it. It’s how I got here in the first place.” Sombra strode over to the food slot in her cell, passing a strange, cylindrical object to Tracer, who snatched it suspiciously.

Tracer tossed the little object in her hands, inspecting every side of it. It was familiar. Way too familiar. Horribly, horribly, familiar.

“Where did you learn how to make this!?” Tracer demanded, tightening her grip on the object. It was a teleportation matrix. It was way too similar to _the_ teleportation matrix. The one that stole her humanity. It was the Slipstream.

“Some old designs I found.”

Tracer jumped up from the seat and walked menacingly over to the cell, mere inches away from an all-too-laidback Sombra. “That you _found?_ Or _stole?_ ”

Sombra tsked. “You make it sound so _bad._ But a girl’s gotta have the latest tech. That latest tech just so happened to line up with that fancy schmancy jet you were flying.”

Tracer froze, her eyes wide. No. This girl. She didn’t steal the designs from any old computer in Overwatch.

“It was a surprisingly complex system to hack. Lots of encoding, but it was nothing I couldn’t handle. Once I was in, I just had to take the info I needed. Once I had that, though, I wasn’t just going to _let_ Overwatch have that ultra-powerful jet of theirs. Especially since it had been perfected.”

“It wasn’t perfected, though.” Tracer retorted weakly, her voice shaking.

“Oh, _amiga_. It was, though. Everything except the firewall that is.”

“You… you didn’t!”

“Didn’t what?” Sombra asked innocently, smirking as she rubbed her thumb along her nails.

“It was you! _You_ made the jet crash!”

“Ding ding ding! We have a winner! Come down and collect your prize!”

Hot tears of fury stung Tracer’s eyes. “You did this! This is your fault! You did this to me!” Tracer gripped her accelerator firmly. Her _life support._ Life support Sombra had put her on.

“Oh, don’t be dramatic. You’re all well-and-good now, aren’t you?”

“Do you have any idea what this does?! How it feels to be like me? I don’t think you do! It’s horrible, having to live like this, and I get to be like this for the rest of my life because of what **you** did to me! Did you even care that there was a pilot in that jet?! Did you even think about what you might do to me, or anyone else that happened to be in there? Or did you just not care!?”

Sombra yawned, unfazed at the onslaught of rage. “I mean, I didn’t expect the jet to backfire like that! Honestly, I just thought you’d die. But nope. You got lucky and managed to survive.”

“Sometimes I wonder if it was better that I survived. I’d like to see you survive a day like this!”

Sombra laughed. “Yeah, I know. Strange dreams, vivid darkness, blah blah blah.”

“So you **know**? You **KNOW** what happens and you **still** don’t care?! Could you be any viler?!”

The hacker hummed thoughtfully. “Actually, yeah. I could if I wanted. For instaaaaance…” before Tracer could do anything, Sombra swiped her hand over the harness through the bars. Tracer’s breathing quickened as she watched purple web its way over her harness, turning the shining blue gear a dark violet.

“I could do this.”

Tracer bellowed an enraged cry as her blink activated without her making it happen; she was sent backwards into the wall with a loud **thud.**

“See, I could do that… but I won’t.” Sombra waved her hand with a grin as the purple disappeared from the harness. Tracer backed against the wall. This girl. She could _control_ the harness! She could control Tracer!

No! She was done with this! She was done with this conversation! She was getting out of here! Sombra just watched with an amused smirk as Tracer blinked out of the room in a hurry, desperate to get as far away as possible.

“Lena! What’s wrong?” she heard Jesse cry, who she had just passed. He was carrying a tray of food for Sombra, precariously balanced on his one good arm since his prosthetic was yet to be repaired by Torbjörn.

Tracer whipped around to face him, he was worried, confused, and slightly panicked. “You watch Sombra!” was all she said.

“What? Why? What happened?”

“I said, you watch Sombra! Just do it! I’m leaving!” Tracer blinked away before he could object.

…

Wrong. Wrong. Something was wrong. Jesse watched as Lena blinked away in panic, humiliation, fear, anger, and any other emotion that didn’t _fit._ There was no doubt in his mind, now. Sombra had done something. Something wrong. He needed to talk to her now.

“Athena, tell Genji to meet me in front of Sombra’s cell, fast.”

“Right away, Agent McCree.”

Genji met with Jesse in less than two minutes. Hesse gave him the quick version of what just happened, and the two of them entered Sombra’s cell together.

“Oh! I get two people watching me this time! What’s the occasion?”

Jesse held the tray, setting it on the ground with no intentions of giving her the food anytime soon. “Spill it. What the hell did ya do to Lena?”

“I don’t know _what_ you mean,” she declared, putting a hand to her heart. “I’m hurt that you’d think I’d do such a thing to poor, little, Lena.”

McCree watched her with an almost passive expression. “I don’t think you understand your position here. Let me make myself clear: He slammed his fist on the bar of the cell. “What. Did. Ya. Do?”

“Does everybody here use the exact same interrogation methods? I’m so scared!” she taunted, rolling her eyes. “Buuuuuut, since you asked nicely, I was the one to repair her harness.”

“That was you? Why do such a thing?” Genji asked suspiciously, his voice calm.

“What? You’d think I’d just **let** poor Lena suffer from that _abhorrent_ condition of hers? Though, first thing I did when I came here was give the harness a little… _check-up._ ”

McCree and Genji froze. It all made sense now. The puzzle pieces clicked into place. Sombra had _hacked_ Lena’s harness, and it was messing with her head!

McCree’s impassive visage melted into fury. He turned to Genji, his voice fiery and gruff. “You go get that harness from Lena. We gotta get it off her. I’ll watch our little _friend_ here.”

Genji nodded and dashed out the room towards Lena’s room. He must hurry. He barged into her room. It was a mess. Her model aeroplanes that she had taken great pride in showing him were on the floor in pieces, plastic and wood littering the ground. Her journal had been thrown to the floor as well, crumpling a few pages. Lena herself was on her bed, curled up and sobbing. She was shaking uncontrollably and covering her face with her hands.

“Leave me alone, Genji!” She bellowed, throwing one of her nearby models at him. He caught it and set it gingerly on her dresser.

“Lena, calm down. You are not well. Whatever Sombra told you, pay it no heed. She is messing with your mind.”

“Oh, my mind, you say!? My mind and everything else!” she shrieked, not leaving the bed. “Just leave me alone! I’m **fine!** ”

“No, you are not!” Genji grabbed her wrist, pulling off his visor as he stared at her intently. She glared at him with streams of tears flowing down her eyes. “Listen to me. Sombra hacked your harness earlier, and it is what has been causing you this unrest.”

Tracer’s eyes narrowed. “Sure, sure! It has to be because of her hacking it! Me? No! It can’t have been me! I’m not an upset person! I’m not _allowed_ to be! I’m the perky, happy one! No sadness for me! Nope! No-can-do!” she yanked her hand away, shaking.

“Lena. I understand you have gone through a lot of pain as of late. But please, be rational. Let me have the harness. We will take you to the stabilisation chamber, and we’ll have it fixed as quickly as possible.”

“I refuse.”

“Pardon me? Do you not wish for us to help you? Lena, think about this,” Genji pleaded, putting his hand on her shoulder.

“I said no! I’m **FINE!** Quit fawning over me! I hate that room! I thought you knew that! I’d say let her play with my feelings as long as I don’t need to disappear again!”

“Lena! Take off the harness! You are not well!”

“I **WON’T!** ”

“You **will!** ” Genji shouted back reaching for the clasp on the harness, he pulled it loose and prepared to detach the harness.

“What the hell are you doing!? Let go!” Tracer grabbed her nearby pistol and shot at Genji, who was completely unprepared. He grunted as the bullets dented his arm.

“Lena! Stop!” Genji cried, grabbing his visor as she blinked out of the room. “Lena!” Tracer was fast. Thankfully, Genji was quick, too. He chased her, a blur of green trailing a blur of blue.

Genji pulled one of his shurikens out of the compartment on his arm, throwing it faster than humanly possible as the hallways zoomed by.

Lena managed to avoid it, blinking in a zigzag long enough to prevent the small weapon from tearing a strap. She retaliated by flashing behind him shooting his back. He groaned, whipping around with more shurikens, throwing three of them. One of them grazed her arm as she dodged the other two, jumping over him as she continued blinking.

Genji sprinted in front of her, using a shuriken to slice one of the straps on the harness. It wasn’t enough, though. It remained secured to her chest as she fled.

Oh no. Genji knew where she was going, as they sped past the hangar. McCree was ready, having heard the ruckus.

“It’s high noon!” he shouted, pulling out peacekeeper. There was a **bang** , and Lena toppled to the ground, flying forward several feet as she skidded on the cold, stone ground. Genji held her down with his left arm, using his right as he reached for the harness.

“No!” Lena shouted. Blue coated her body as the men flinched back. She rewound through time, now in front of McCree, who had run up to try and stop Lena.

He cried out as she shot him in the chest, his armour only blocking some of the bullets. McCree twisted and kicked her legs out from under her, but she grabbed his arm and pulled him to the ground with her. He felt the world surge and twist around him as Lena blinked, still holding on to him. They blinked forward several feet as McCree’s stomach hit the floor and he retched from the effects of the time travel.

Genji dashed over, pulling slicing two more of the straps on the harness. It hung loosely on her as she blinked away, using one hand to hold it to her. Almost. He almost had her.

McCree struggled to his feet, swaying as Genji kept Lena busy. He fired peacekeeper at the final clasp as the harness finally came loose from her body. Genji charged again, tearing it away from her as she struggled. He flipped off the switch, and Lena froze. She glared at him with so much contempt and betrayal that it hurt as he watched her body become incorporeal.

“Behind you,” he heard someone call in a singsong voice. He whipped around, throwing another shuriken as he felt the familiar cold nails scrape over his circuitry. His joints locked up as he glared at his attacker. Sombra circled Genji, inspecting him like he was an item.

She rolled her eyes when McCree shakily pointed Peacekeeper at her. Sombra tore the accelerator from Genji’s locked arms and turned it on, tossing it to Lena. She caught it readily and immediately blinked with Jesse again, causing him to lose any composure he had as he vomited again.

Tracer clutched her harness close and took a deep breath. “Widowmaker said I can go to Talon. I won’t let them put me back in that room!” she declared, barely above a whisper.

Sombra chuckled. “I was wondering how long it would take you to accept! Welcome aboard, _amiga_. Grab on.” Sombra held her hand out for Lena.

“Lena! Don’t! Stop! That’s not you! You’re not thinking straight! Please!” Genji desperately cried, still unable to move.

McCree, still unable to move properly, begged Lena from his knees. “Lena, d’ya really think they’ll… treat ya all well ‘n good in Talon!? Use yer head…” he fell into another spell of vomiting.

Slowly, Lena reached for Sombra’s hand, not looking at those who called her a sister. Sombra smirked as Lena gripped her hand firmly.

“Translocating. Don’t worry, Lena. This should be a _very_ familiar trip.”

Then they were gone. Lena was gone, having vanished in a burst of purple light. Genji’s joints unlocked, and he fell to his knees.

“No… she’s gone… Lena’s gone…”

…

“Alrighty, Gabe. Go nuts,” Sombra announced as soon as she and Lena appeared in a cold room. The walls were an unwelcoming grey that matched the floor. The door was heavy and wouldn’t be possible to pen with force, though it was open now. The room was surprisingly big, though. Reaper stood in the doorway, clutching a remote Sombra had given him. She hummed. “And with that…” Sombra waved her hand, deactivating the emotional manipulator she had incorporated into the harness.

Tracer groaned, nearly stumbling to the ground. She shook her head, looking up with renewed fears. “Oh no… What have I…?”

“Welcome to Talon!” Sombra called cheerily, strolling past Reaper to watch the fireworks. Reaper pressed a button on the remote, and the hair on Sombra’s neck stood up as Lena suddenly convulsed, jerking as though being shocked. Her harness that she had been holding to herself turned off, though she showed no signs of fading. The air in the room became charged and strange feeling, making Sombra’s skin crawl.

Reaper laughed darkly, taking several steps back as Lena held her harness tight, desperately searching for an escape. Then Reaper stepped out of the way of the door, gesturing for Lena to leave. She didn’t hesitate, charging right at the door. As she reached the door, however, a bright blue coated her, and she was hurled backwards several feet, dropping her harness.

Reaper didn’t hesitate, scooping it up and tossing it to Sombra, who was busy laughing from the ridiculous sight in front of her. Tracer tried again, running up to the door, only to be launched backwards in a blink several feet. She stumbled, toppling to the ground.

“Wh-What is that!? How are you doing this!?” Sombra just laughed as she effortlessly stepped through the door with no repercussions, taking the harness with her. “No! My accelerator! Give me my accelerator! Please!”

“I’m afraid the magic word won’t get you anywhere here, _amiga,_ ” Sombra teased, holding the harness in front of her as Lena stared with a pathetic and terrified look. “Look, I’m glad to have you in Talon. Really, I am. Unfortunately, though, Gabe here feels the need to guarantee your _loyalty._ ”

Tracer’s eyes widened as she realised her position. She shuffled backwards a few inches as Reaper took a menacing step forward. He rasped out another threat. “And don’t think this will be like your friend in Hanamura. I give you my word, right here, right now. You will not be leaving this room until your loyalty is assured.”

“Welcome aboard!” Sombra repeated as she strode away with her new toy, leaving Lena to play with her new _friend._


	14. Cuffs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, Story gets a bit darker going on from here. Please let me know in the comments if you think I should change the rating to M and I will consider it.

**Lost in Time Part 3: Destroying**

[ ](http://imgur.com/XD107j5)

 

**Chapter 14: Cuffs**

“What happened?” Lúcio shouted from across the hall. He was wearing his blue and green skate suit with Fareeha following close behind in her Raptora suit. The two had apparently been training. “Athena told us there was a fight going on near the cell, did Sombra get out!?” He panted as he skidded to stop in front of Genji and McCree, who were both still on the ground.

McCree heaved, trying to catch his breath after the warping effects of Lena’s blinking. “Sombra… hacked the chronal accelerator! She  **wanted**  Lena to get it back! It messed with her head… that’s why she’s been so upset lately!”

“Where is Lena? I presume she fought Sombra as she made her escape?” Fareeha calmly asked, unstrapping a pistol on her side.

“No… we tried to get her accelerator off her! She ran, and  **helped**  Sombra escape! She went with her! She’s with Talon now!” McCree stopped trying to stand, falling back to his knees with his good hand buried in his fop of hair.

“She ran  **to** Talon!?” Lúcio nearly slipped with his skates, using his glove to grip to the wall and catch himself. “What was she thinking?”

“I’ll tell you what she was thinking,” Fareeha began, her voice cold as she removed her helmet. “She was afraid of you guys taking her harness! Why would you act rashly like that? You should’ve waited until we could’ve helped her too.”

Genji shook his head, pulling off his visor as well. “She could’ve had her mind damaged by it! We were…”

“Well, now she’s going to be ‘damaged’ by Talon! They’re not just going to let her join out of the blue like that!”

“Well, what do ya suggest we do about it now? Lena is with Talon, but we have no idea  **where**  that is!” McCree practically screamed, surging to his feet mere inches from Fareeha’s glare.

“How should I know?! How did they even beat the two of you?”

“Sombra managed to hack Genji, and Lena blinked with me! Her blinks do a number on someone, let me tell ya! It’s not like we  **let**  her go with Sombra!” McCree spat, pushing past her. “Now come on. Let’s check the databases for possible Talon hideouts!”

Pharah sneered, grabbing the prosthetic clasp as he walked past. “I don’t think you understand what you’ve done! You saw how they treated me, and they weren’t even trying! They maimed my body for no purpose other than cause harm! What do you think they’re going to do to Lena, assuming they actually want to try and ‘convert’ her?!”

“Do ya think I don’t know that?! Do ya think I’m stupid?! Let me tell you, I’m not! I  **know**  I screwed up majorly! I already feel like crap! Look, whaddya want me to do?! Apologize? Get on my hands and knees and beg for you to forgive me for my transgressions?! I may have just doomed one of the most well-meaning, kind people I know to  **torture**! I’m not blind! And I know firsthand what kind of things Talon could come up with, given their habit of stealing Blackwatch techniques! So yes, I think I understand what could happen even more than you do! Now, are ya  **done**  tryin’ to guilt trip me into God-knows-what and help me  **find Lena?** ” McCree yanked his clasp away and scooped his hat up and shoved Fareeha away from him.

The security guard shook her head slowly, putting a hand on Jesse’s shoulder. “It would be like looking for a needle in a haystack.”

“Then we had better start lookin’.” No more theatrics. We gotta find her.

Lúcio watched the two of them go, frowning. How did things go so bad so suddenly? He had noticed that Tracer had seemed rather bipolar since rescuing him, but it never would have occurred to him that it wasn’t really her. Genji, meanwhile, was collapsed on his knees with his head bowed.

“What have I done?” he mumbled as Lúcio rolled next to him. The DJ crouched next to him, planting a hand firmly on the ninja’s metallic shoulder. “I should’ve known better than to confront Lena like that. Now, look at what has become of my actions.”

“Hey, hey, don’t be like that,” Lúcio turned off his soundpack and sighed. “You guys were right to do what you did. If you had waited, who knows what could have happened?”

Genji shook his head. “She only ran to Sombra because she feared  **me.**  Had I not…”

“Stop that right now. This ‘what-if’ stuff gets us nowhere fast. You can’t worry about what could have been. Just change what will be.”

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” Athena cut in through the speakers in the hall. “but MEKA has arrived with the recruit for Overwatch approximately eighteen hours ahead of schedule, no less.”

“Thank you, Athena. I will go meet with them now. Lúcio? Do you wish to join me?” Genji offered, standing up and offering a hand to the rollerblading man.

Lúcio nodded, using Genji to pull himself up, “Sure, I guess an outlaw like Jesse isn’t the best welcoming party, huh?”

“Not really, no,” Genji chuckled as Lúcio began a slow skate to the hangar. “Lúcio?” Genji called, who twisted around, sliding backwards. “Thank you.”

Lúcio gave a small smile. “Hey man. No problem! If you need help with anything, just let me know!”

…

Dr Ziegler was not sure what to expect from Ecopoint: Antarctica. Overwatch lost communication with the establishment almost a decade ago. A facility left to the elements for so long could not be in peak condition. She was right to believe this. She touched the jet down on one of the small buildings, where it should be stable if they were lucky.

Commander Morrisongrunted. “Seems like there should be a better place to land the jet.”

“I’m not Lena. I don’t have her superhuman ability to land planes in the most unusual places imaginable.”

Ana chuckled, grabbing a bag of medical equipment and slinging it over her shoulder. “I remember one time she managed to park one of the dropships inside a canyon barely wider than the jet itself. Jack nearly jumped out of his skin during all that.

He huffed. “That was the only time I flew with Oxton, for the record. She steered clear of planes when she could. Anyway, are we going to search for survivors or what?”

Winston nodded. Cryostasis chambers should be in the building nearby. Commander Morrison, I was hoping you could help me search for any remnants of research from here while everyone else goes to find the climatologists.

Morrison nodded. “You’re the boss.”

Angela pulled her coat closer to herself as she exited the ship and the bitter winds tore into her flesh. The facility was in better condition than expected, likely due to the inability for metal to rust below freezing. Doors on the little buildings were held shut with a layer of ice with nothing but darkness inside, and the orange power station that reached above the nearby glacier was full of torn metal as sparks still managed to jut out from the power cells. The entire area felt eerily quiet as the howl of the winds could be heard from above the glaciers.

The communication satellite on the top seemed to be almost hanging off, definitely not functional. Some of the power generators appeared to work alright, though. That meant the cryopods still could be functional. Ana and Reinhardt followed sombrely as they walked down the narrow staircase to the second story of the cryostasis lab. A bright blue tube of blue steam wafted down into several pipes being fed into the cryopods below.

The group walked down one more story and finally found the cryopods, which were in less than pristine condition.

“Oh no…” Ana mumbled as she rushed over to one of the pods. In golden letters, “Adams” flashed on and off. Below it was a heart rate monitor, which was flat. The hushed buzz rang throughout the room. The white mechanical tubes were coated with a thick layer of frost, making it impossible to see the bodies inside, but there was no way they would be alive in there.

“Look,” Reinhardt whispered, pointing to broken tubes attached to each of the pods, where the blue gas from above streamed out. No wonder the pods failed. “The poor men and women. If only we had sent someone.”

“No! Look!” Angela cried, rushing over to the tube on the far left. It read Zhou. Vague memories bubbled to the surface of a perky scientist that Mercy had shared some tea and a nice conversation with. Mei-Ling Zhou was her name, if memory served. Mercy had completely forgotten she was sent here! Mercy ran up the stairs, quickly using the control panel to deactivate the pod with her former acquaintance in it. She rushed back down after doing so as the defrosting began. Slowly, Mei’s body temperature returned to something manageable, if dangerously low.

Everyone watched with baited breath as the cryopod deactivated, but the door didn’t slide open, held together with ice. Reinhardt didn’t hesitate, forcing the door up with his bare hands, revealing the person inside. She was soaking wet, her brown hair sticking to her neck. She was wearing nothing but a sports bra and shorts and shivered violently, unconscious. She seemed to flop out of the tube as Reinhardt caught her. Holding her tight. She was so skinny, likely underfed before the cryostasis.

“We must get her back to the ship, quick! Put this around her, Reinhardt!” Mercy called, taking off her thick coat and passing it to him as he wrapped it around the young woman. The air was frigid, but it was nothing she hadn’t handled before. They sprinted to the ship, desperate to make it in time to save Ms Zhou.

Reinhardt used one hand to sweep any paraphernalia off the table, setting the climatologist down on it, still keeping her bundled in the coat. Mercy hurried to get a heated blanket she had thought to bring at the last minute as she forced Reinhardt to pick her back up from the table before setting her down again on something much warmer and more comfortable.

Ana attached a heart rate monitor to Ms Zhou, but the heartbeat was scarily slow. Over time, however, she slowly began to stabilise as her body temperature rose. In the meantime, Winston and Jack both came back with several boxes of items such as old computers and HoloVids. At the top of the box was a strange blue robotic device. Perhaps an old housekeeping machine that had been tinkered with.

“What is all that?” Reinhardt asked, running over to help with the boxes.

Winston grunted, setting one of the heavier ones down on the ground. “They’re old computers, none of themwerefunctional, so we have to go through them to search for salvageable hard drives.”

“You found survivors?” Jack noted, setting two heavy boxes down and looking at the climatologist.

“Survivor. She was the only one,” Ana admitted, head bowed. “She looks like she’ll survive, but will need more medical attention.”

Reinhardt slammed his fist on the table opposite to the one Mei was on. “The Swiss headquarters blowing up caused more collateral damage than ever could have been anticipated! Just think, we lost contact with all the Ecopoints, but this was the only one with cryopods! We should have sent rescue teams sooner!”

Jack shook his head sadly, “By the time we knew what was going on, there wasn’t a chance.”

“Says the mad who had been at odds with Gabriel for months before that!” Reinhardt snapped, keeping his head down.

“I couldn’t have predicted Overwatch would suffer such a monumental collapse. At worst, I thought Blackwatch would get shut down. At best, we’d all be well and good. I never expected someone to sabotage us.”

“And instead of facing that destruction you ran and hid like a coward!” Reinhardt bellowed, glaring at Jack, who looked unfazed behind his visor. He quieted, clenching his hand into a fist. “Jack, you know I would follow you to the ends of the earth. Many people in Overwatch would as well. So why did you run and hide like that? You could’ve stayed, could’ve organised **something** , and maybe we could’ve saved the scientists and anyone else affected by Overwatch’s collapse.” He closed his eyes, his hand shaking.

“You know that’s not how things work,” Jack admitted, leaning back against the wall of the ship as Winston awkwardly shut the door while Mercy prepared for take-off, listening quietly. “Had Overwatch banded back together like it was, do you know how many of our men would’ve been caught and prosecuted? There was too much chaos. As for me, I needed to figure out what happened, but I couldn’t do what I needed without my anonymity I now have.”

“I’m sure we could’ve avoided capture or something of the sorts…”

“No, Reinhardt. We couldn’t have. With all the authorities and bandits regularly raiding all our headquarters, there was no way. Winston only managed to survive by hiding for the past several years. And if we went to something other than the headquarters, we’d be nothing but a bunch of wannabe do-gooders.”

“I just don’t get it, though! Why is your ‘anonymity’ worth more than letting us know you survived, Jack? I spoke at your funeral! I mourned you, and the whole time, you were alive and didn’t tell us!”

“I did want to tell you, but I couldn’t risk it. If I had been seen with a former Overwatch agent, the public might have figured things out. Not to mention the massive bounty on my head reflecting poorly on you” he explained as Mercy eased the ship out of the Ecopoint.

“As I said Jack, I did, would have, and still will follow you to the ends of the earth, as I am sure a lot of us here would, but don’t you **dare** ever pull that again! You know we don’t care about a bounty on your head!”

Commander Morrison sat up and looked ready to say something, but stopped when everyone saw Ms Zhou stir, moaning quietly. Mercy flipped the switch for autopilot and scrambled together a water bottle and some provisions she had thought to bring as the woman woke up.

She seemed disoriented when she opened her eyes, blinking blearily as she pulled the jacket closer.

“What… where am I?” she croaked, her voice rough and tired. She sat up, though she wobbled uncertainly.

“You’re on an Overwatch ship, we’re getting you out of here. It’s me. Doctor Ziegler. You’re safe, Mei.” Mercy asked, opening the water bottle and passing it to her. She took it carefully, her hand shaking.

Ana made sure everything was stable and walked over to meet Mei too. “What’s your name, dearie?

“My name is Mei-Ling Zhou. But where are my friends? They went into cryostasis too! We can’t leave without them!” Everyone glanced around uncomfortably as she stared intently.

“Ms Zhou, I’m sorry to say that they didn’t survive. The cryopods malfunctioned.”

She was silent for a moment, her expression unreadable before it contorted into something like disbelief.

“No way! They can’t be! We checked the cryopods over and over! There’s no way the pods could have failed for at least five years!” her voice quavered as she spoke, the jacket sliding o her wiry frame.

“Mei, it has been much longer than that, I’m afraid,” Mercy admitted sadly.  
“How long has it been…?”

“Almost ten years.” Mei gasped, then flopped onto the heated blanket and began to sob, burying her head in her hands in a desperate attempt to remain quiet.

“W-why? Why didn’t you guys come…?”

“We couldn’t. I can explain it to you later,” Ana offered, brushing her hand through the girl’s tangled and wet hair. “For now, just know that you are safe.”

“But my friends… All of them are gone? After everything that happened, they’re just gone? I can hardly…” Mei took a deep breath. “I-I’m sorry. It was ungrateful of me to act this way. Thank you for… rescuing me,” her voice hitched as she tried desperately to keep tears at bay.

“Do not worry, Mei. You do not need to worry about gratitude. For now, just get some rest. You and I can have a formal chat when you are better. Here, eat this.” Mercy handed Mei a peanut butter sandwich, which she quickly wolfed down, clearly famished.

“I’m sorry…” Mei mumbled, pulling the jacket tighter as she flopped back onto the heated blanket.

“For what?” Ana asked, confused.

“For crying.”

“That is perfectly acceptable, Mei. You’ve been through a lot. Get some sleep, and we’ll explain everything to you when you’re better.”

“Mm-hmm… yeah, okay…” she mumbled, already drifting off to sleep. Mercy sighed once it was evident she was asleep. “Poor girl. I can’t imagine how overwhelmed she feels. I’ll take her to the hospital wing as soon as we get back. That place has been getting more traffic than usual lately. You all really need to take better care of yourselves.”

Winston huffed a nervous laugh. “Hey, we aren’t the ones being injured!”

“Regardless, everyone is being harmed too often for my liking. Though, are you sure it was a good idea to leave all our wounded alone at the base?”

Winston shook his head. “I’m sure they’re fine. It’s not like they haven’t taken nasty hits before.”

Mercy chuckled. “I suppose that’s true. It’s probably silly of me to worry.”

…

Lena growled in frustration at her stupidity. Why on earth did she do that? She just turned herself in! Reaper had left the room shortly after Sombra did, promising to be back soon. In that time, Lena’s head cleared. Why the heck did she do that? She had just given herself up to Talon! Sure, it had seemed rational in the spur of the moment, but with her harness gone… Genji and Jesse were right! And she hadn’t listened, and now Talon wanted her to “join” them as their newest member!

Lena took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. First things first, she should figure out what was up with the room. Overall, it was surprisingly large, about the size of a standard living room. There was a metal platform in one corner embedded into the wall, probably a sorry excuse for a bed. Lena gave a slight shiver when she realised the closest to plumbing was a drain in the ground. She chose not to dwell on that. The floor was made of a single, solid piece of cold metal, rather than metal plates separately installed like a floorboard. The walls were also made of metal, though on the back wall, far away from the door, and on the left and right side, were odd metal contraptions protruding from the wall.

Lena hummed nervously and analysed one of the devices. It was about four feet up and stuck out about one foot with a metal pole that had a small spherical end to it. The pole was surrounded by other protrusions that secured it to the wall.

“Talk about something out of a sci-fi horror movie…” Lena muttered under her breath. A quick test of shaking them revealed they would not be moving from the wall anytime soon.

She noticed the sphere on the end had a dim, blue glow to it, barely noticeable with the bright, intrusive light panels above. They were stabilisers. She was in a glorified, or rather unglorified, stabilisation chamber! The very thing she had been trying to avoid by coming here! And now here she was, an undignified bird stuck back in her cage! Except there might not be a rescue party to set her free.

Lena’s breath hitched as she tried to force the thought out of her head. She’d get out of there somehow! No doubt about it! She didn’t have the corrupted harness on anymore, so there was no reason to listen to that little, scared voice in the back of her head. Slowly, Tracer inched to the side of the room with the door, trying to figure out how far she could go.

She was about six inches from the wall with the door when she felt the energy that kept her here weaken. She was four inches from the wall when the energy seemed to reach out and grab her, pulling her into the very flow of time, much like her normal blinks. The main difference here was that she had no control, like trying to swim down a torrent instead of a stream as she was hurtled backwards. She skidded several feet after the blink ended, trying to maintain her balance.

So, Lena could get about four inches from the wall, probably a bit farther from the door until she was thrust back into her cage. How could she ever escape like this? Without her harness, she couldn’t stay stabilised outside this room, and if she tried to destabilise herself by leaving, she was forced to blink back into the chamber. She really was trapped.

Lena felt herself begin to shake despite herself. It was hard to not feel antsy when you knew someone would be coming back with the sole purpose of causing pain. The question would be if she could take it. She’s had her fair share of violent dreams thanks to her condition. She didn’t see how any pain he inflicted could be worse than the wounds of other’s that she’s felt.

Lena sat down on the “bed,” perching her hands on her knees, cupping her head in her hands. How did things get so screwed up so fast? Why didn’t she do anything about that headache? She attacked two of her best friends who were just trying to help her! She got just what she deserved for those stunts. Now she was in the hands of the bad guys, which is what she’d been acting like. Maybe Genji and Jesse weren’t even upset that she was gone.

Lena shook her head and forced the thought out of her mind. That was a dumb idea! She knew them, they knew her, and they knew it was the harness! Surely they were upset and would come find her!

…But how could they find her? Lena had no way of contacting them. She ran off without her gauntlets and equipment, and Reaper had stolen her only pistol that she had. Even if she could somehow leave the room, she had no way of fighting anyone, and that was just assuming she could somehow avoid being destabilised.

Though, if she did manage to get out without being stabilised, maybe she could use her condition to her advantage and find her way back to… would it be the surface, or was the building even underground? It was impossible to tell. Though, Lena would wager that she was deep in some underground Talon hideout. If that wasn’t enough to make a claustrophobic person want to climb the walls…

Footsteps. She heard footsteps, and her heart caught in her throat. She jumped to her feet, being sure to keep one foot planted on the wall. It was about to start. There was nowhere to run. Lena did her best to keep her breathing steady as the door opened, and Reaper nonchalantly strode through, carrying a black duffel bag.

“How have you been settling in? Do you find the room to your liking?” he taunted, leaving the door open behind him like some sick reminder that she couldn’t flee.

“Oh, it’s absolutely  _smashing_ , love. The design leaves a lot to be desired, but overall you’ve got the psychopathic torture chamber thing nailed down pat,” Tracer snarled, following him with her eyes and nothing else.

He laughed, deep and rough, like nails on a chalkboard. “Oh, you’re putting up a fight, I see. That’s good. It’ll make  _breaking_  you all the more satisfying.”

“Glad to see you’re confident,” Tracer snapped, rolling her eyes. “Ever as humble as you were back in Blackwatch.”

“Oh? I’m surprised you know about that. Did your little  _dreams_  show you?” he asked, almost innocently, as he unzipped the bag and reached for the contents within. “You know, you’re a really  _special_  case. I’ll be honest, finding a room to accommodate your  _disease_  was tricky. But I think we chose well, though most humans would be killed by this place. It  _was_  made with Omnics in mind, after all.”

“It’s not a disease,” Tracer retorted without thinking. She mentally punched herself for already letting him get under her skin!

“Sure, sure, whatever you say. Whatever you call it, it makes you a good fit for a personal favourite ‘method’ of mine that usually only Omnics can survive. I’m curious to see if it’ll have any unusual effects on a thing like you.”

“At least I  _act_  more human than you do,” Lena spat, leaning back slightly. “Yeah, I’m absolutely  _bubbling over_  with curiosity myself.”

Reaper uttered that dark and creepy laugh again. “Then we don’t really have time to lose, do we?” He pulled the first item out of the bag. It was a long clasp, made of metal, maybe a bit less than thirty centimetres’ length. It looked just barely above the width of maybe her arm. Tracer’s eyes widened in realisation.

“Oh, so you’ve figured out what this is for, have you? Well, will you cooperate or make this more fun?”

“No way am I letting you put that thing on my arm,” she declared through grit teeth, tensing up as he casually stepped towards her, opening up the cuff in preparation to clamp it around her arm.

When he was a meter away, Lena sprang off the wall and to the right of her captor. She might not have had her harness, but she was still fast. She charged him from the side, ducking under an attempt to grab her by the arm and sweeping her leg out to trip him. He seemed to lose his balance, which Lena took the opportunity to grab him by his arm and hold it behind his back.

He chuckled as she moved to break his arm as he seemed to melt away through her grasp into a puff of smoke, circling around her, following her as she tried to run away from it. The smoke seemed to circle around the cuff as a hand materialised, grabbing it as Reaper grew from the smoke, lunging and grabbing Lena’s arm before she could react.

Tracer never minded her short stature, but she would love to have a few more inches as Reaper held her wrist up high enough to where her feet could barely touch the ground. “That was a nice try. I applaud your effort.” Lena struggled as he finally succeeded in clamping the cold piece of metal around her wrist as it clicked together and two small lights turned on.

Reaper dropped her to the ground as she tried to slide it off. Unfortunately, it ran almost the entire length of her forearm and was impossible to move at all, much less past her wrist. It was cold and unnatural, rubbing against her skin uncomfortably as she moved and biting into her elbow when she bent her arm. It didn’t restrict any movement, per se, but the way it squeezed her arm and felt so heavy was beyond uncomfortable.

He chuckled darkly. “Like that? It’s a special cuff made with you in mind specifically. And don’t worry, there are plenty more. Now, I suggest you let me put this one on without a fight.”

“Like hell!” Tracer snarled, taking several steps back, her balance thrown off by the surprisingly heavy cuff.

“I was hoping you’d say that.” Reaper reached into his cloak and pulled out some sort of remote, and Lena’s eyes widened. He pressed one of the buttons, and a wave of agony overtook Lena, and she felt electricity tear through her body, as her muscles began to spasm, jerking in all directions like a marionette tugging at her strings. She collapsed on the ground, still convulsing even as the shock faded away, leaving a dull sting in its place.

It took several seconds before Lena’s limbs even chose to listen to her again. In that time, Reaper managed to grab hold of her other wrist, unbothered by any static electricity as he clamped another one of the shackles on her arm, equally as restricting and uncomfortable, almost painful. She growled in anger and moved to flee.

He pressed another button on the God-forsaken remote, and Lena learned  **very** quickly what made the room not “human-friendly.”

The cuffs dropped to the ground like a rock, suddenly quadrupling in weight, pinning her to the ground with her arms bent awkwardly as she grunted in an effort to pick them off the ground. It was a magnet. The ground was one big electromagnet.

“Do you like the unique feature of the room? Omnics are driven absolutely mad by it. Most humans react… negatively to the electromagnetic field of this strength, but you’re used to that kind of exposure, aren’t you?”

Lena ignored him, trying to use her hands to get off the ground, but she may as well have been pinned down with bowling balls. She couldn’t get the shackles to so much as budge as she tried arching her back against the floor for some force get her up, but again yielded negative results. She felt some pain in her left ear and figured her spider bite earrings must have been torn clean out.

She kicked out with her legs as Reaper neared her in some desperate attempt to keep him away, but he easily caught one leg, holding her ankle firmly despite her trying to kick. He threw her left leg to the ground and stomped on her foot, bending it awkwardly as Lena grunted. He pulled at the leggings of her uniform. He bundled a small amount of the fabric halfway up her thigh, piercing it with the claw on his glove. He seemed completely unbothered by her struggling as he sliced and tore the fabric until he managed to rip the lower part of her uniform completely off, effectively turning her leggings into shorts. He slowly and methodically did the same with her right leg, not mindful whatsoever of the skin he cut while ripping off the lower half of the leggings.

“Now that that’s done, I’m going to release the magnet. It is up to you whether or not you choose to let me put on the cuffs like a good girl.” The instant he clicked the button to release the magnets, Tracer lunged for the remote Reaper was holding, but he was ready, holding it just out of grasp and pressing the shock button.

Somehow, it managed to hurt even more than last time as a loud crackle drowned out the sound of her heavy breathing, leaving Lena to spasm on the ground once more as Reaper snapped two leg cuffs to her calves. They were too tight, almost painful as well, refusing to move in either direction.

Lena gasped for breath as she struggled to her hands and knees, her new shackles feeling like lead weights, which they practically were. “Are you done yet?” Tracer asked, forcing her voice to sound more annoyed and jaded like she wasn’t scared out of her mind.

“Oh, hardly. Just two more to go, though. Same as last time, I’ll leave it up to you,” he sang, rummaging through the duffel bag of nightmares.

Tracer glared in disgust and trepidation at the next  _toy_. He pulled out yet another large clasp, this one easily the widest and longest. The only part she could see that fitting on was her torso. Once again, he activated the magnets, and Tracer felt herself stick to the ground like she  _was_  the ground. This time, she couldn’t even move her legs as she jerked from side to side, trying anything to  _move._

“Get away you sicko!” Tracer cried as he got  _way_  to close to her. He ignored her grabbing the collar of her jacket with both hands as he straight up ripped the zipper apart rather than just unzipping it like a normal person. The zipper plummeted to the ground, no longer even attached to her jacket.

The only layer she had under her jacket was a padded sports bra, and she felt totally exposed as he pressed the button to release the magnets. She scrambled up, trying to get as far away as possible, using one hand to try and hold her jacket closed. Reaper pressed the shock button without hesitating. She clattered onto her stomach, writhing in agony as the electricity coursed through her from all her limbs, intent on immobilising her. As the suffering faded away into an intense soreness and she was left convulsing on the ground, Reaper yanked up her coat from the back, exposing the entirety of her torso, grabbing the giant cuff and clamping it around her with a much deeper  **click**  of the mechanisms attaching.

Tracer scrambled to a sitting up position and moved to cover her bra with her jacket, holding both sides together with her hand as she growled at him again. The cuff on her torso prevented her from properly arching her back, squeezing her in a vice grip as the cold metal chilled her.

“You’re certainly a fan of overkill, aren’t you?”

“You’re certainly a fan of self-inflicted harm,” he retorted strolling back to the bag for the last cuff.

“I’m ninety-nine percent sure that this does not qualify as ‘self-inflicted.’” Lena struggled back to her feet, swaying unreliably.

“Well, I gave you every opportunity to avoid shocking, but you keep deciding to fight. By the way, you know the type of electrocution you’re undergoing can be very damaging to a human? I doubt you would be able to get away Scott-free with any amount of freak abnormalities.”

“You could always just not shock me,” Lena snapped again. He pulled the last item out of the bag. It was another cuff, this one thinner. It was a collar. A shock collar. He wanted to put a shock collar on her.

“I don’t think that’s going to happen. Now, are you going to let me put this on, or do I need to force it on?”

“I’m  **not**  your pet!” Tracer declared, tensing up. “I’m not your dog to be trained and walked wherever you want me to go!”

Reaper laughed again, sending shivers down her spine. “You are now.” He pressed the button once more as Lena dropped to the ground, finally screaming as she just wished for it to  **stop**. Every part of her body felt as though it had been dipped in lava as sparks crackled from the cuffs.

Reaper walked menacingly towards her, towering over Lena as she desperately worked to catch her breath. “As long as you are here, as long as you live, you are nothing but  **property**  now. You are an animal to be trained to fight for  **our**  purposes. You have no  **say**  in any of this, and you won’t  **ever**  have a say in this. You are nothing but a freak of nature that needs to be put in its place.

Tracer couldn’t even struggle as he forced the collar onto her neck, making it harder to catch her breath as the suffocating metal band clicked into place, securing itself around her neck. She managed to choke out some words between gasps, glaring up at Reaper, still unable to get on her hands and knees.

“Doesn’t mean I won’t put up a fight for as long as possible.”

She could practically hear the smirk in his voice. “That’s what I’m counting on.” He turned some dial and pressed the button again.

Lena fell unconscious in seconds as electricity crackled from the band in her neck.

“Sleep well,” Reaper taunted to his unconscious victim. “We have a long day tomorrow.”

 

 


	15. Run

**Chapter 15: Run**

“So let me get this straight… Tracer ran to Talon but was mostly kidnapped because her chest thingy was rigged, and now the outlaw McCree is over there explaining what happened to Mercy, and that’s why the walls of the building are shaking?” D.va took a sip of the soda from the mini fridge in her room. Lúcio opened up one of the boxes D.va had brought containing a variety of gaming equipment. He put the rather large computer on top of the oak desk along with the monitor and speakers. Her neon pink gaming chair required rebuilding, which Hana had already begun.

“Pretty much. Don’t tell anyone about McCree, though. His presence is somewhat illegal. Hey, where do you want these?” Lúcio pulled a few stuffed animals out of the box, to which Hana barely turned her head.

“Just toss them on the bed. Oh, and if you could hook up the computer, that’d be sweet. This chair needs to get its life together,” she ended with mild frustration as one of the screws on the seat popped out of place. “And don’t worry, if I reported every little illegal thing I spotted, MEKA would have been shut down ages ago.”

“Woah, really?” Lúcio rummaged through some wires, trying to find where they plugged in on the computer. “What do they do that’s so bad?”

“Well, they recruit children into war. They managed to get the government to look the other way, but having fourteen-year-olds piloting mech suits isn’t exactly legal. This isn’t _Neon Genesis Evangelion._ ”

“Oh, man! Evangelion? That show’s almost a century old, isn’t it? And yeah, good point… I guess I never really thought about it too much. Must’ve sucked, huh?”

Hana shrugged. “It’s not too different from anyone else going to war. It doesn’t get better as you get older.”

Lúcio nodded. “That’s true, I guess. Overwatch had some decently young agents too, from what I hear. I think Tracer was your age when she started fighting.”

Hana clicked her tongue as the chair finally began to resemble what it was meant to be. “It’s horrible that she’s missing, or gone, or whatever, then. Are we going to go on a rescue mission?”

Lúcio grimaced, finally getting all the chord hooked up on the computer. “We don’t know where she went is the problem. As soon as we can find some decent coordinates, I’m sure we’ll manage to find her! Overwatch seems to have an exceptional talent for rescue missions!”

Hana chuckled. “I wonder if they’ll let me come. My mech isn’t super stealthy, and I’m not a great shot outside of it, though… It’s so much easier to aim with a joystick.”

“Oh! Who are these people? Lúcio called, holding up a framed picture with Hana and three smiling MEKA pilots, as indicated by their uniforms.

“That’s my squad! Asi9, C6piders, and Q-ball! We’ve been in a team for a little while now!”

“Wow, it sucks they couldn’t come to Overwatch,” Lúcio admitted, setting the picture frame on Hana’s nightstand. She shrugged it off.

“Yeah, but Overwatch agreed to help MEKA next time the Omnic in the Sea poked his nose into our business. So as long as they don’t get themselves killed, it'll be all right,” she rolled the seat under the desk as she finished it, moving on to the clothing as she hung up her outfits. After she had folded up one or two pairs of jeans, she stretched and turned to Lúcio. “Hey, thanks for the help with unpacking, by the way. Want to go get something from the kitchen? Where **is** the kitchen?”

“No problem! And sure, I’ll show you where it is.”

The two of them carefully hung back as they reached the kitchen where Dr Ziegler’s voice echoed through the room as McCree took her yelling with his hat tipped down.

“Why on earth would you **do that?!** You should have waited until more of us were here to help! Why would you think the two of you alone could stop two people that you struggle to fight when they’re alone?!”

“Look, Doc. I’ve already had this discussion with Fareeha. You don’t have to teach me the error of my ways or nothin’. I screwed up majorly. Just tell me how I can help fix this,” he retorted, his voice level. Winston was hunched on the ground with his head in his hands, Captain Amari and Commander Morrison 76 both hung back with relatively neutral expressions. Reinhardt looked beyond furious as he paced back and forth, though not at anyone in particular. Torbjörn and Genji were noticeably absent.

“I don’t know! We have no clues as to where in the world Lena could have been taken!”

McCree shook his head. “That’s not true. I found this in Sombra’s cell.” He slid something across the table to the doctor, who quickly flipped it around in her hands. Her expression changed from anger to confusion to surprise.

“This… how could she have made something like this? Winston!” she called, causing the gorilla to snap his head up, though his cheeks were wet with tears. She passed him the device, causing him to gasp. Winston gawked as he held up the odd contraption while McCree watched awkwardly.

“So are ya gonna tell us what that there device is or are ya gonna keep us in the dark?” McCree snapped, kicking his feet up on the table.

“It’s… a portable replication of the teleportation matrix. The one used to model the Slipstream and chronal accelerator. There’s no way, even with Talon having had the chronal accelerator for a few days, that they managed to turn it into something like this. Sombra must have stolen the technology in advanced.”

“I remember Lena bein’ super mad about somethin’ or another when she left Sombra’s room. Part of it was probably thanks to the harness, but I wonder if that had anythin’ to do with it?”

Winston slouched, “Probably. We know it’s a sore spot. However, I may be able to get us some clues as to where Sombra took Lena if I use some of the old tech in the lab.”

“That reminds me,” McCree added. “Genji took one of the jets. Said he knew where to get a lead and had an acquaintance who had agreed to help him out.”

Mercy sighed, rubbing her temples. “I can’t believe this is happening… Okay, I need to go take care of Mei. Jesse, I think Torbjörn is working on your prosthetic now. He’s been kept busy with his latest project, but it should be done in a while,” she mused, sounding tired.

D.va hummed, calling the attention of the group. “Sorry to interrupt, but I remember hearing Tracer needs her harness to be present, or something like that, right? But if Talon had that technology earlier, what are the odds they know how to use it against her while she’s being held captive…?” she mumbled, averting her eyes out of nervousness and respect.

Everyone exchanged nervous glances that answered her question wordlessly.

Mercy mumbled something under her breath and speed walked away, desperate to get out of the conversation. Jesse bit down on his cigar, and Winston just stared intently at Sombra’s device.

“Look, let’s not obsess over this,” Ana piped up. “We won’t be able to help anyone if we tear ourselves to pieces. I’ll be leaving with Reinhardt soon to pick up some old ‘friends’ that should be able to assist us once we locate the hideout. They’re very good at playing the distraction card. We’ll go get them, Genji is searching for information, and Winston has a way to try and track Sombra. We’ll find her in no time.” She heaved her sniper rifle over her back pulling up her hood. “Fareeha, do you wish to come?”

“Sure, mother,” the security guard replied stiffly. “I will go prepare my Raptora suit,” she made a soldier’s march back to her quarters.

“Lúcio, you said you had someone coming, right? When will they be here?” Commander Morrison demanded in his gruff voice.

The DJ chuckled nervously. “Oh, they’ll be here tomorrow. Only one of them is a fighter, though. The other one is a brilliant engineer.”

“Any details?” he pressed, fingering the top of his pulse rifle.

“Well, one is an Omnic robot created from the remnants of the OR15 units. The other is an eleven-year-old girl. She’s the engineer, not the fighter, for the record!” he added hastily.

“What?! Why would you bring a child to a place like this?” he snapped, nearly dropping his gun.

“Look, I talked it out with her parents. We got all the details worked out. She built the OR15 unit back up completely on her own. Her level of mechanical genius would be a perfect fit here,” he reasoned, to which Jack grunted.

“If I were still the boss, I’d have her turned around and marched back home.” He sighed. “Regardless, I can’t stop you. Just know that there will be a problem if anything happens to her.”

Lúcio nodded. “Of course, of course. Don’t you worry about that. Hana and I were going to get some food, then maybe prepare the room for them. Or find something productive to do. I dunno,” he mused absently as Soldier rolled his head around in what must substitute for an eye roll.

“Now come on, Hana. I think we agreed on food?”

“Of course!” She chirped, back to her perky self. “Hey, Dad 76, wanna join us?” she asked, playfully elbowing the super soldier.

“I'm not a father,” he groaned, about-facing and slipping out of the room. Hana and Lúcio laughed and proceeded to raid the kitchen.

…

“I don’t get it,” Torbjörn grunted to the robot in front of him. “Everyone is making such a big fuss over that girl. I mean, it’s not that I don’t care about her or anything, but devoting half of our current forces to finding her just seems… inefficient.”

The Omnic sitting on the metal platform in front his beeped and whirred in response as a little yellow canary pecked at some seeds near the open cage being used as a birdhouse. His humanoid arm had been removed as Torbjörn painstakingly wiped all the rust, leaves, and other forest debris off of it while the e54 bastion unit watched in fascination. His gun arm had already been carefully repaired and reattached, but the robotic arm with the self-repair unit needed some extra attention.

Most of the debris had been wiped off of the bulk of the robot relatively quickly. It was now just little remains of dirt and repairs that remained.

“Seriously. The girl went to Talon on her own. Why should we bother with a traitor? Harness or not, she did run to them. She isn’t blameless in all this like everyone makes her out to be.”

The bastion quirked his head and made several sad chirps as his bird seemed to grow bored of the seeds and settled on top of the robot’s head with a content twitter.

“She might not be blameless, but that doesn’t mean we ain’t gonna save her,” a voice interrupted in a thick country drawl.

“Well, look who finally arrived. Your arm must be low on your priority list if it took ya that long to come here.”

“And you must be goin’ crazy from old age. What happened to bein’ the man that hated all Omnics?” McCree retorted, tipping his hat at the bastion unit, who quirked his head and used his gun to wave while beeping merrily.

“I don’t have to justify myself to you,” Torbjörn snapped, finally picking Bastion’s repaired arm up and inspecting it absently. “Your arm is on the table over there,” he grunted, waving his arm in the direction of another workbench littered with screws and scraps. McCree’s prosthetic lay on it, awaiting reattachment. “You know how to put it on.”

McCree rolled his eyes and picked up the prosthetic, clamping it on and fiddling with some of the wires and screws as feeling finally returned to that part of his body. “Don’t pretend like ya don’t miss Lena. You’ve been moodier than usual.”

“Hard not to be when everyone’s making a fuss.” Torbjörn pulled out a few screws and began rewiring the arm to Bastion, who was ducking down to help the short man reach. “Not like moaning and groaning solve anything.”

“Rainbows and sunshine today, ain’t ya?” McCree quipped, sighing in relief as he clenched his robotic hand into a fist, testing the fingers as they bent and moved with the quiet squeaking of metal.

“Just as much so as everyone else. Now, do ya need something? Because I’m kind of busy right now.”

“Yeah. I wanna know if you plan on helping at all with the search for Lena,” McCree admitted, brushing his poncho back over the arm.

“Come to me with a specific request. Then we’ll talk,” Torbjörn snapped again, finally finishing the bastion’s arm, which whirred and chirped happy, waving at the Dwarfish man. Torbjörn pulled out a rag and began wiping the Omnic’s leg joints in preparation to do any needed maintenance there, already tuning Jesse out.

“Fairly sure Winston could use a hand, but don’t mind me,” McCree sarcastically responded, throwing a wave up behind him as he left the room. “You’d better eat before the doctor hunts you down, we both know she gets downright murderous when we don’t eat, and that’s past trauma neither of us wants to relive,” he called back with some of his good nature back.

“That’s something we can both agree on,” Torbjörn affirmed with a weak chuckle. “Alright, let me finish up with Bastion, then we’ll see about helping with the Slipstream tech. The bastion takes priority, though.”

Bastion whirred and chirped gratefully as his canary settled down on the nest the Omnic had just set on its shoulder. Strange bird, that one.

…

Tracer groaned as a gentle kick to the metal around her waist jolted her back into reality from the blissful void of sleep. She was suddenly aware of her entire body covered in a dull, incessant ache. She blinked, her eyes unfocused as she looked up at the blurry visage above her. Purple and grey faded into view, eventually focusing into Sombra, who was leaning on one leg as she nonchalantly rubbed her thumb to her nails.

“What do you want?” Lena croaked, her voice hoarse and dry. “To taunt me? That sounds about right.”

“Oh, _Amiga,_ do you think me heartless?” Sombra overdramatized, putting her hand on her heart and another one to her head as though she would faint. “I don’t need to rub salt in the wound. I’m just here to ask you something. That’s okay, isn’t it?”

“Not like I’ve got any better way to spend my time,” Lena retorted, forcing herself into the sitting up position, wincing as her joints protested to the movement.

“Why are you fighting like this? I mean, you’ve got every part of your body chained and bound, ready to be electrocuted and much, much more. And you know there’s nothing you can do to stop him and anything he chooses to do to you. Why fight a losing battle?” she pressed, offering a hand to help up Lena. She reluctantly accepted, pulling herself unsteadily to her feet as the world tipped around her.

“Because giving up is a horrible way to go. If I’m going down, I’m going down having kicked and screamed to fight for what I believe in.”

“Such sentimentality!” Sombra cheered mockingly. “But I think you’re smarter than that. You know that ‘fighting for what you believe in’ will bring nothing but pain. You’re not going to get a medal for chivalry. You’ll get scars, though. That I can promise. Seems like it’d save everyone a lot of time and energy if you just gave up.”

“You know that’s not true,” Lena spat, leaning against the wall. “If I just bow down and let him tame me, he’s going to do so. He’s going to make sure I become his obedient little pet. Either way, I’m going to wind up with a few scars, so I may as well go down the Tracer way,” she explained resolutely, her gaze unwavering.

“So you know that you’re fighting a battle you can’t win, but you still go at it with no sense of self-preservation?”

“Last I checked, soldiers, in general, have little sense of self-preservation, or they wouldn’t be soldiers. Besides, why do you care what dumb decisions I choose to make? Do you care about me or something?”

“Of course not!” Sombra waved off hastily, almost too quickly. “I just don’t get it. You want to know what Reaper has planned for you? Let me tell you, that edgelord has been huddling in the darkness, joyfully making a list of things for the past couple of weeks.”

Lena groaned, rubbing the heavy metal cuff on her arm as though she could reach the inflamed skin trapped under it. “I get the feeling you’ll tell me no matter what.”

Sombra chuckled. “This is true. So, I assume you’ve seen the stabilisers in the wall, right? Well, he can control those remotely.”

Tracer shivered, biting her lip. “Wonderful,” she sneered. “Thanks for building that. I appreciate it.”

“Oh, I made the blueprints, but Gabe spent forever personalising it once he got the chronal energy hooked up to the electric interferers that those doohickies were originally. Anyway, if you keep being a little rebel, he plans on taking you to what he has dubbed, in his infinite creativity, the ‘Pit.’ In other words, you know dogfighting? Well, you’re the dog.”

“And just how does he plan on getting me to fight?” Tracer snorted in disgust, recoiling slightly.

“He has his ways. You aren’t his first time at the rodeo, so you’d better buckle up, kiddo.”

“Duly noted,” Lena dryly commented, rolling her eyes, trying to stop her trembling.

“Aw, are you shaking? What, are you scared?”

“Well, you’ve put a lot of time towards making that happen. Guess you’re reaping your reward,” Lena admitted snidely, trying to move the metal cuffs on her arms at all, to no avail as they refused to budge. “Now, do you have any other message of happiness to deliver? Maybe that these clasps can suffocate me? Or that there are venom injectors that will put a deadly poison into me?”

“Oh! Such imagination! Shame I didn’t think of that. But sadly, no. They don’t do anything like that. You’re certainly pessimistic, but alas, I can see when I’m not wanted. Have fun waiting for Gabe!” Before Lena could protest, she snapped her finger and disappeared into a puff of purple pixels.

Lena snorted in anger, stumbling over to the platform that served as a bed. She lied back on it, groaning as she flipped onto her stomach, trying to find a position resembling comfort. Usually, she slept relatively curled up, but the cuff on her torso eliminated that as a possibility. She tossed and turned, eventually settling down with one hand behind her head and the other being held in front of her as she lied on her side. The spiky tufts of hair flopped down in front of her face, somewhat oily yet somehow lacking the same shine from before.

She held her jacket together, savouring what little warmth it provided in the chilling room. She should be able to handle this. She’s dealt with worse in her dreams. For some reason, though, the idea that she had no real reality to return to, that this was happening to her, turned it into a far more sobering experience than the one of indifference she had expected.

She crossed her legs to conserve some body heat and provide comfort, only shivering further at the sound of the metal cuffs grating against each other. She longed to have the gloves she had left in her room as she blankly stared at the thin layer of dirt and dust already accumulating on the red and irritated skin.

Her entire body stung from what she assumed was the previous day. Time was irrelevant here as it was in her void of time. The lights above buzzed so quietly, yet noisily at the same time as Lena let any thoughts be drowned out by the sound. Her throat burned with thirst, and hunger had already begun gnawing at her stomach. Her condition required that she eat more food, which she was definitely not getting here. She could go maybe two weeks without food compared to the standard three or four. She desperately wished she could take a deep breath, but her lungs refused to expand at a satisfying rate thanks to the collar.

She absently noticed the wall, mere centimetres away from her, had three barely visible smudges on it, about the size of her hand. Blemishes in the metal, chaotic and unintentional. Slight mistakes nobody had noticed, tainting the otherwise near perfect sheet of metal. She didn’t know why she cared about something so mundane, yet she didn’t care that she cared. The smudges on the wall didn’t plan to maim her in some way, so at least it was harmless.

Seconds blurred into minutes, and minutes into hours as Lena studied every detail of the slight smudges on the wall in front of her. The first one was clumped next to the second one, rounded and almost circular. The second one looked like a random smear, branching in several directions. The last one was somewhat detached from the other two and made something resembling a distorted heart. The smudges were only one or two shades

Tracer’s pointless musings halted as her heart caught in her throat when she heard footsteps. The door opened with a hushed whirr. “You certainly seem comfortable, _Freak_ ” a familiar voice croaked as she pointedly refused to turn towards him. Freak. He wasn’t wrong, not that she’d encourage him.

“Totally, thanks for the fancy arrangement,” she snapped. Then she screamed as a wave of agony consumed her as electricity once again ripped through her already burnt flesh like fire. She writhed for several seconds, hardly able to tell she fell off the bed as she panted. The searing pain lingered for several seconds after the shocking stopped, leaving Lena unable to say when it actually had ended.

“I did not give you permission to speak. Your first lesson: you will not utter a single word to any of your **owners** unless directly asked to do so. This includes any Talon official, Widowmaker, Sombra, and myself. Is that understood?”

Lena glared, scrambling to sit up with her back against the wall. Reaper pressed another button, sending a quick and harsh shock through her body, causing her to yelp and clutch the metal around her stomach as though it helped, her eyes squeezed shut.

“I am speaking to you. Have I made myself clear?” His words were calm and patient like he had all the time in the world. He nonchalantly leant against the open door frame, one again taunting her with an impossible to achieve freedom.

“Crystal clear,” she growled, grabbing the bed for support as she heaved herself up, clutching her head as the world tipped around her.

“Now, today we will be playing a ‘game’ of sorts,” he explained in deadpan, shuffling the remote between his claws.

“Such fun,” Tracer began, crying out as another sharp and sudden shock rushed through her, feeling as though she was stabbed.

“Silence! You were not told to speak!” he demanded in a gruff voice. Tracer begrudgingly quieted, being sure to glare daggers into him. She felt a headache forming from all the punishment.

“Now, I will explain the rules of our **game,** and you will follow them to a tee. If you do not, then I think you know I’m more than capable of putting you in your place, **Freak**.”

Tracer rolled her eyes and rotated her hand in a “get on with it” gesture.

“I believe you’ve seen the stabilisers, yes?” his head tipped ever so slightly towards one of the mechanisms on the wall. “I’m going to shut all of them off, save one. Special waves of energy will be disseminated through the room. You will have ten seconds to reach the ‘safe zone,’ which will be one of the three stabilisers with a reduced radius. You will still be unable to leave the room, so don’t bother trying.”

He pointedly held up the remote and flipped a switch. The effects were immediate, as the world mostly detached itself from Lena. She could feel herself, and the aches and pains in her body were still there, but she was numb to everything around her as she noticed she was flickering unreliably. The cuffs, unfortunately, remained secured to her body.

The stabiliser on the far side of the room was dimly lit. Lena could reach it in six seconds if she wanted. She felt her grasp on the world fade as the seconds ticked on. She didn’t move. She wasn’t going to just do what he said. She wasn’t going to be walked like a dog. Time ran out, and she was falling. She felt herself fall into the endless black void. It was almost peaceful, as her pains faded away.

Then she was back, her injuries sharper and fresher than ever as Reaper stormed over to her after she tumbled back onto the ground abruptly. “You were told to **run**.” Before she could even reorient herself, he snatched her ankle up and picked her up by the leg, making her head hit the ground with a sickening thud before being lifted off the ground as her arms dangled below her, weighed down by the cuffs.

Lena saw stars as she tried to listen to what Reaper was saying. “Next time I say run, you will **run.** For that, I think you need a special punishment.” He spent a couple seconds fiddling with his remote, finally pressing another button. Lena couldn’t even comprehend what was happening until she felt her back slam against the wall, followed by her legs and arms, trapping her in an upside-down position, completely unable to move.

“Ugh! Let me go!” she commanded, immediately regretting her words as electricity ripped through her as she howled in anguish, twisting her shoulders as she jerked her body fruitlessly. She rasped for breath, choking and coughing as she desperately gasped in what little air the collar would allow her, feeling her vision dim as she glanced up spitefully at Reaper. He crouched to meet her eyes as she hung, with her head a foot from the ground. Her jacket would’ve completely fallen off had it not been stopped by her arm cuffs pinned securely to the wall.

“Comfortable? I think you’ll just stay like this for a little while. Long enough so that the blood will rush to your head and cause some issues, but barely not so long as to cause permanent damage. Reaper grabbed Lena’s chin, tipped her head, so she was forced to look at him. “And next time I say run, you _will run._ Do you understand, my freak?”

“Yes…” she croaked, forcing down another wave of coughs.

“Good. Now I will see you in a while.” He nodded approvingly at her submission, then strode out of the room as Lena could only watch him with a mixture of humiliation and rage. She barely noticed Widowmaker greeting him in the doorway.

…

“You realise you may kill the girl before she fully submits to you,” Widowmaker deadpanned once she and Reaper were a few minutes away from Lena’s cell. They both made their way to the dorm rooms for the most valued agents, ignoring the frightened or nervous glances some of the lower-ranked Talon members shot them.

“I will not. She is not going to let herself be killed off so quickly. She is going to fight with every bit of energy her body can muster until her mind is destroyed.”

“And what will you do with a destroyed mind?” Widowmaker asked calmly. “Strip her bare of her emotions in their entirety?”

“Not this time. We have more useful ways to turn the inevitable damage into a strength.” They stood across from each other, both of them by their respective rooms that happened to be directly across from each other. The doors were metal with nameplates in colour matching the dark blue doorframe.

“And when exactly do you intend to address her human needs? That girl is already showing signs of starvation and dehydration, almost twice as fast as your other victims. Her cheeks have begun to sink in, and the bags under her eyes are not due to lack of rest,” Widowmaker listed, leaning carelessly against the door. “It’s an awful lot of trouble you are going to if you don’t plan to give her what she needs to survive.”

Reaper chuckled. “You know the drill. After her session, I’ll have you bring her food and drink. Be sure to tell me of how she acts during this time.”

The blue-skinned assassin rolled her eyes in mild irritation. “Yes, yes. ‘I know the drill.’ Unlike you, though, I have some interest in making sure she has some basic human functionalities that don’t need to be fixed with machines. It is such a needless waste to strip her of being a person only to force a person back in with metal and wires.”

Reaper laughed darkly. “Sounds to me like the heartless spider harbours some resentments.”

Widowmaker tilted her head. “Talon stripped me of most of my emotions. I will hold on to what little I can feel. And if you care about what happens to you on your next mission, you won’t mention it to the higher-ups,” she noncommittedly threatened, knowing he didn’t particularly care so long as her loyalty was authentic.

“You’re quite nonchalant about your emotions,” he commented, pulling off one of his claws to use the fingerprint scanner.

“What am I going to be? Sad?” she retorted smoothly, using a retinal scanner to unlock hers since fingerprint scanners had a harder time with her chilled skin. “Regardless, how long do you intend to keep your latest ‘project’ hung upside-down like that?”

“Another hour. By then the new pet should be thoroughly convinced that she must obey. Tomorrow, though, you must meet me at the Pit.”

“I will be there,” Widowmaker assured blankly, stepping into her room and leaving Reaper without another word as he did the same.

…

It didn’t take long for Lena to feel dizzy and lightheaded. The burn from the shock had receded back to being a constant soreness covering her entire body. Her eyes had begun to hurt to the point that she couldn’t bear to keep them open, squeezing them shut to mask the pain. She couldn’t move her head in the slightest and struggled to draw breath as her neck was secured to the wall.

Her ears began to ring, and she heard each of her heart beats like thunder as the blood rushed to her head. She lost track of time as each second lasted an indefinite amount of time, ticking away innumerably though with no signs of reaching an end.

The seconds turned into minutes, each one paved with a burning thirst and sickening hunger. Lena would have thrown up if there was anything left in her stomach with which to do so. She began to lose the feeling in her toes and fingers as the painful tingling sensation claimed them instead.

Minutes edged closer and closer to an hour, and Tracer felt warm tears drip down her face. She peeked her eyes open and could see the reddish tint of blood out of the corner of her vision as they trailed to the tip of her nose before she slammed her eyes shut again, feeling herself gag. Her tongue was also beginning to hurt as she clamped her jaw around it as firmly as possible in an attempt to drown out the stinging.  
“How are you holding up?” Reaper asked as he slid through the door, strutting pompously over to her. Tracer attempted to rasp something to him, only for it to devolve into a gasp of coughs as she splattered the ground with splotches of crimson.

“I think I’ll let you down now, given you seem ready to listen.” Reaper flipped a switch on the remote, and Lena tumbled haphazardly to the ground, hitting her head with a dull thud as she flipped to the side. She groaned, wrapping both her hands around where her head hit, pulling her legs close as she slid closer the edge of the wall.

“You have five minutes to recover, then we will do the game you foolishly refused last time.”

Lena choked down a sob, refusing to give Reaper the satisfaction of hearing her cry as she instead took a shaky breath, breathing deeply as she waited for the feeling to go back to her toes and fingers and opening her eyes once the headache was manageable.

All too soon, Reaper called for her short recovery to end. “Enough. Get up. It is time to run.”

Lena groaned, pushing her back against the wall and using as leverage, walking herself up the wall until she finally stood, wobbling but in no risk of falling.

“And, begin.”

Lena sighed as she felt the world numb around her, leaving her isolated from all external stimulation. She whipped her head between the three stabilisers, noticing the one on the other side of the room was the only one lit. She ran to it, nearly tripping on several occasions as her breath ran short. She collided with the wall, unable to skid to a stop as she felt herself re-join the world a foot from the stabiliser. She panted, catching her breath.

“Again,” Reaper called. He shut off the device near her, and so she sprinted desperately for the next one, tripping halfway as she forced herself clumsily to her feet, staggering into the safe zone just as the world had begun to go black around her. She stumbled right before stopping, twisting and slamming her back into the wall.

“Again.” So, she ran again. “Again.” She barely made it this time, lunging to the safe are a fraction of a second early as her legs had already begun to vanish. “Again.” She had several seconds to catch her breath, which seemed to make her throat burn worse.

“Again.”

“Again.”

“Again.”

Lena ran across the room again and again, over and over as she sprinted desperately between the safe zones like a mouse fleeing from its prey with no escape in sight; her legs grew heavier and heavier, weighed down by the metal, making her movements grow sluggish and her reactions slower as she struggled to even make it to the safe zone.

“Again.”

The metal begged to meet the ground, Lena noticed Reaper turn a dial, and movement became harder as she took heaving steps after building up momentum just to be able to move her limbs. Steps became more difficult to make; she fell to the ground. She wouldn’t make it to the safe zone. With what little traction her shoes could gain, she crawled to the device that would keep her here. She needed to be anchored. Lena planted a hand on the ground, shaking with the effort to prevent the arm cuff from weighing her down completely. Her back screamed as the cuff bent her spine unnaturally, as she crawled, barely not fading.

The weight lifted, and the stabiliser shut off again as she took off sprinting again, back and forth, back and forth between the contraptions. Occasionally Reaper activated the magnets, bringing Lena to a staggered crawl, other times she ran regularly. It hardly made a difference as the world began to blur around her, each movement almost entirely mechanical, though it was like functioning with only half of the screws in place. She was rickety and could fall apart at any time. Her throat burned like fire, her arms had long since become dead weight, dangling limply. Saliva and blood drooled from her cracked lips, and her legs began to drag on the ground as she moved. It didn’t end. The agony worsened further and further until finally, it overpowered her. She collapsed on the ground without fanfare, with no chance of reaching the stabiliser. Lena blinked out of the world, reappearing in her black void. Yet it was different this time. It wasn’t the previous vat of quiet it had once been. She still felt her body. She was undeniably in the void, but the pain that covered her like a blanket was still consuming and angry.

Before she could overthink it, she was back in her room. She shivered violently, edging away from Reaper in a panic as he made his way over to Lena. The mask made his expression unreadable as his footsteps echoed menacingly. He had the remote in hand. Lena’s raspy, unsteady breathing quickened. She tried to stand up, but her arms refused to hold her weight, collapsing beneath her. Reaper crouched down, and reached out to her with his clawed hand, outstretched and ready to do anything.

“Well done, my Pet,” he almost cooed, his raspy voice somehow melodic. He brushed his hand through her matted and tangled hair, somehow managing to avoid snagging on any knots. Lena’s back stiffened and she clenched her jaw, refusing to look at him. Her cheeks were bright red with humiliation as she tried not to recoil.

“You did well. I did not even need to tell you to run. I am pleased you kept going for as long as you did. Then again, running from everything has always been a particular talent of yours, hasn’t it? First, your condition, then yourself, after that, Overwatch. Now, though, you can run for Talon, and put your incredible skill somewhere it belongs.” Reaper continued petting her hair as he mused, each claw touching her skull barely enough to send shivers down her spine at the unnatural touch.

“Now, how does that sound, hmm? Are you ready to run for us instead of against us?”

Tracer grit her teeth, “No way am I going to do your dirty work!” she declared, her voice coarse and weak, almost hard to understand.

“I see. I suppose we will just have to try again tomorrow. Great work today, though. I’m very proud of you,” his voice refused to lose that rasping, almost song-like melody as he stopped stroking her hair, striding smoothly down the room. Lena hunched her back as he let go, letting her head bob forward.

There was mumbling outside the door. Then new footsteps echoed through the room as Lena mustered the energy to look up. It was Widowmaker, clad in the outfit Lena had always seen her in from the opposite side of the battlefield. The only difference was that her hair was down, and she was carrying a tray.

Lena recoiled as Widowmaker balanced the tray on one hand and offered her other to her. She was proposing to help her up? Maybe it was a trick. Some cruel taunt. Lena was too tired to care, physically and emotionally as she grabbed the cold hand, though Widowmaker undoubtedly did most of the work getting Tracer to her feet and leading her to the bed.

Widowmaker set the tray next to Lena, who leaned absently in the corner of the wall as she sat on the platform. There was a sandwich, some orange slices, a pudding cup with a plastic spoon, and a standard bottle of water. There was also a damp towel and the remote Reaper had been using, which Widowmaker quickly picked up off the tray and set out of Lena’s reach.

It was the best-looking meal Lena had ever seen. She flicked her eyes between Widowmaker and the food, unsure as the assassin sat down next to her, grabbing the water bottle and opening it before passing it to her.

Lena used both hands to hold the water bottle, not wanting to risk dropping it as she raised it to her lips without hesitation, taking several large gulps of the cold liquid as it soothed her throat. It was incredibly hard to swallow on account of the collar, but Lena hardly cared. She finally forced herself to stop roughly halfway through the bottle, grabbing the sandwich and taking small, tentative bites as she struggled to swallow.

“Allow me to help you with that, though it will go back on when you finish,” Widowmaker gestured to the collar clamped firmly around the prisoner’s neck. Lena tensed suddenly as Widowmaker pressed a button on the remote, and immediately took a gasping breath as her lungs filled with air as the collar came loose. The chilled air of the room simultaneously agitated and soothed the scarred, bloodied, and burnt skin beneath it as Lena just enjoyed a few seconds of unrestricted breath.

Soon, Lena moved on to wolfing the sandwich down in a few short bites. It was delicious, though Lena didn’t even take the time to figure out what ingredients were on it.

“I am aware that this is not but a fraction of the sustenance you require to maintain optimal health,” Widowmaker pointed out as Lena started on the orange slices, her eyes dripping with tears from a tidal wave of overpowering emotions. “This was all I could bring you. It should be barely enough to keep you alive, but not much more. You will not feel your hunger properly sated for a while.” Widowmaker grabbed the pudding cup from Lena as her shaking hands struggled to open it. “This is okay, right?” she asked as she handed it back and Lena dug into it mercilessly. It wasn’t a request for approval, it was an invitation to speak.

When the pudding was scraped out of the bottom of the plastic cup, Lena grabbed the water bottle and hastily finished what was left of it. Her head remained bowed as she set the bottle back on the tray.

“Thank you…” Was all she muttered, her damaged voice somewhat easier to listen to after the water.

Widowmaker nodded and handed the towel to Lena. She reluctantly took it, wiping any of the food, saliva, and blood off her face. The once lavender cloth had been blemished with splotches of blood when she finally handed it back to Widowmaker wordlessly.

“Now, the collar must go back on, and I will take my leave.”

Lena ducked her head, refusing to say anything as Widowmaker clicked the collar back on as gingerly as was possible, still causing Lena to flinch as the untreated wound was reunited with the metal, still lukewarm from her body heat.

Without any fanfare, Widowmaker took the tray and left the room, sliding the door shut behind her. Lena almost fell backwards onto the bed, resentment, anger, embarrassment, fear, and sorrow spiralling together in an unbridled hurricane. She deserved to have the shock collar back on. After all, she had conformed perfectly to what Reaper had wanted. In less than a day, she let herself be “tamed” into the pet he wanted. She had failed in the very thing she had resolved to prevent from the beginning. She really was nothing more than a pathetic thing, and she deserved little more than what she was receiving. But still... She refused to give up. She would  _not_ submit to Reaper's orders, doing his dirty work, just because of some pain. She would die before that.

Lena fell asleep with these thoughts circling in her mind.


	16. Despair

OWLT 16- Despair

“Mother, would you mind telling me who we are searching for?” Fareeha asked patiently from the cockpit of the jet as she flew towards King’s Row in the reasonably large ship, despite the lack of passengers.

“Oh, we couldn’t miss them if we tried. They’re sending up signals letting us know where they are,” Ana teased vaguely.

“Could you tell me what these signals are?” Fareeha pressed, sighing.

“Oh, you’ll know,” her mother replied, kicking her feet up on the table. “They’re nearly impossible to miss.”

The security guard shook her head. “If that’s the case, I’ll go on autopilot for now.” Fareeha pressed a few quick buttons on the ship, letting Athena take over on steering. She eased her way into the seat next to her mother, her movements delicate and careful. The rain pattered on the roof of the ship as the engine purred. It was almost peaceful as the busy roads echoed below, distant, as though they belonged to another world.

Ana chuckled. “Trust your old woman. We’ll know when we’re near them.”

“Mother, please could you tell me who it is now? I find your reluctance to do so unnerving.” Reinhardt sat across from them, respectfully silent as the two talked.

“I guess you won’t let me hide it anymore, will you? It’s the Junkers. We worked together one time to take out an Omnic factory the Omnic in the Sea was using to create Omnics without autonomy. In other words, regular robots, designed to kill. Wolves in sheep’s clothing,” Ana explained calmly, not moving her gaze from her rifle that she was cleaning.

“The Junkers? You mean that two-man gang of survivors from the explosion in Australia, one of which is a wide target for bounty hunters, going by the name Junkrat? Jamison Fawkes if memory serves?”

Ana whistled in awe. “Where’d you hear all that? How’d you remember all that? I didn’t know anything about them until I needed some people good with explosives.”

“I am a security guard. I made sure I could be aware of any major outlaw or criminal on the off-chance I encountered them. Come to think of it, I believe you and the commander were on that list,” she added in slight amusement. “Shrike and Soldier 76, correct?”

Her mother chuckled. “That would be correct. Jack never was original when it came to making up call signs! Remember when he put in a suggestion for Tracer’s, Rein?” Ana called to the German, who bellowed a hearty laugh.

“Of course! Who could forget that? He just wanted to call her ‘Jet,’ even after she started training to become an agent!”

Fareeha quirked her head in amusement, remaining relatively motionless otherwise. “I get the feeling he selected Jesse’s call sign?”

Reinhardt beamed. “As a matter of fact, he did! By the time Reyes even put a second thought into getting Jesse a proper name, the paperwork was done!”

Fareeha twisted awkwardly in her seat at the mention of Reyes.

“What’s wrong, Sweetie?” Ana asked, taking note of the change of attitude.

“Gabriel Reyes… He wouldn’t happen to be Reaper, would he?” Fareeha asked almost shyly.

“I- I don’t…” Ana stuttered, caught off-guard. “How did you know that?”

“What…?” Reinhardt muttered, aghast.

“Mother, I spent a week in his presence. All the nuances were there.”

Her mom froze. “Gabriel was the one to- “

Fareeha held up her hand, cutting off Ana. “Do not concern yourself over what happened there. That is done and in the past. He likely only caught me for my Raptora suit and to draw you out of hiding.”

“You ask me to forget it, but your movements are stiff. You’re still in pain, aren’t you?”

“As I have said, that is not important. What I want to know is what happened to Gabriel to land him in Talon like that?”

Reinhardt glared at the captain. “Why were we not told of Gabriel?” he asked with an uncharacteristically quiet and cold voice.

Ana held up her hand to cut the two of them off. “First off, I did not know it was Gabriel until a few months ago. Furthermore, I am not sure why he joined Talon. As for why I did not tell Overwatch of this, there was never a right time.”

“Never a good opportunity to tell us anything, is there? First that you survived, and now that another one of our ranks has as well, but converted to the enemy! When **will** there be a good time?” Reinhardt didn’t even bother to hide the quivering of his voice as he spoke.

Captain Amari sighed. “You accuse me of not sharing this, but when would I have?”

“When you arrived!”

Ana huffed. “And what would I have said? ‘Hey, my daughter has been kidnapped, but by the by, Jack and I are both alive and so is Reyes as well, and he’s Reaper on the enemy team!’ Once that fiasco was over, we had wounded that needed treating and attention! Then you went on the Lúcio rescue, then Lena started acting off! We had the Ecopoint mission where I had to A: help treat Mei afterwards, and B, help Winston search what we scavenged for any information! Now Lena is gone, and you expect me to go into detail concerning one of my best friends betraying us all?”

Reinhardt stuttered, stunned. “That’s not… that’s not what I meant… I just… I wish you could stop hiding things from us all. We’re supposed to be team members again. I wish we could act like them once more.”

Ana nodded. “That seems fair. I’m sorry, Reinhardt. I never intended to put you through such pain.”

“I know, Ana. To be honest, though, I’m just glad you’re alive.” Fareeha smiled warmly at how his voice hitched.

“We all are,” Pharah smiled, wrapping her arm around her mother and pulling her into an embrace. Ana gave a small but content smile, cupping her hands over Fareeha’s.

Then the fireworks went off.

“Uh…” Fareeha stumbled lamely, at a loss. Multicoloured light suddenly flashed through the windows in the jets as fireworks shot up, though they seemed a bit closer to conventional explosives than proper fireworks. Ignoring the incessant sting of the scars on her shoulders, Fareeha moved to the cockpit and turned off autopilot. The pain was distracting and annoying, but more than tolerable.

Outside, on a random rooftop, two out-of-place men were happily sending off a cascade of explosives, dangerously close to the ship at times, seemingly without rhyme or reason.

“Uh, Mother, are you sure inviting these two criminals onto our ship is a good idea?”

“Relax, Sweetie. They love me. I promised them some cash from our government funding along with being able to blow things up. They were thrilled to join!”

“Oh dear…” Reinhardt deadpanned, rubbing the bridge of his nose with two fingers.

Fareeha carefully landed the ship on the same rooftops as the Junkers, struggling to avoid some burnt remains of fireworks and other explosions of the sorts. The door opened, revealing the two men, one of which was propped on a lawn chair, hair smoking as he fiddled with a math and cylinder, likely filled with gunpowder. The other was a big man, breathing heavily, as though he had to strain for breath as he stood by quietly.

“Oi, Amari! How’s it been? You haven’t blowed anything up without us, have ya?” The man greeted cheerily, with a clear Australian accent. Clumsily splayed on the floor was what must have been his weapon, though it appeared to be made with spare parts. The other man held his gun firmly, definitely a gun, though it seemed to be clumsily loaded with shrapnel and other debris rather than bullets. He wore a gas mask and some simple clothes that wreaked of gunpowder.

“No, I’m afraid not. Though, we’ve been looking into finding an individual building we’d be happy to have destroyed,” Ana prodded, smiling. Reinhardt hung back, a gun around his belt that he looked ready to reach for at a moment’s notice. Fareeha would be lying if she said wasn’t equally as on-guard.

“Awesome! Well then, you know our deal! A bit of cash and a fun job should do nicely!”

Captain Amari nodded, “Of course. Though, in turn, please do not blow up any Overwatch property. Though, I have taken the liberty of preparing your rooms right next to a range perfect for testing explosives.”

“Just one room is good,” Junkrat assured hastily. Me and Roadie here stick together. Right, big Fella?”

“Yes,” the abnormally large man heaved as he lowered his gun slightly, still tense.

“Allow me to introduce you to my daughter and team member. This is Pharah, and this is Reinhardt,” Ana added, gesturing to each person respectfully.

“Greetings,” Reinhardt nodded respectfully, still wary.

“Pleasure to meet you,” Fareeha politely greeted, doing a small salute.

“Well they’re certainly balls of energy, ain’t they? Call me Junkrat, and this big lug is Roadhog.”

“Hi.”

The captain chuckled, heaving her rifle over her shoulders. “Now, before the cops come, should we leave?”

“Oi, those blokes couldn’t catch us if they tried!” Junkrat bragged, elbowing his partner. “But sure! Only if I get to try out some of your explosives when we get to the base!”

“Only if you let me help,” Ana agreed with a smile. “I’ve been dying to incorporate some chemicals I whipped up a while ago into a bomb!”

“No kidding? Epic! I think this business venture between us and Overwatch will work just fine, won’t it Roadie?”

“Yes.”

…

“Oh, wow! This lab is amazing!” The bubbly little girl bounced up and down as she zipped around the room, poking and prodding a variety of Winston’s machines.” Her skin was a deep brown and radiated warmth, with face paint dotting her eyes and traditional African garbs clinging securely to her skin.

Behind her, a giant robotic centaur followed, painted green and yellow. She was elegant, to a degree, in the smooth way she trotted along, much like a show horse. D.va and Lúcio followed close behind, exchanging amused glances as the girl babbled on and on, naming devices they couldn’t begin to understand the meaning of.

“And I can actually use this lab as I please?”

“Well, I think Winston would want some help with his research and weapon development,” D.va explained, popping a piece of bubblegum absently.

“Oh, of course! Whatever he needs help with! Oh! Is that a shield projector? The way the device spreads outwards…” Efi picked up a small hexagonal device, half disassembled, flipping it over in her hands. “The wiring is super simple for such a device! Using a circuit like this is genius! But maybe changing the power source for something like what Orisa is using could make it last longer! It’d be less volatile too,” she babbled, setting it down gently, though she appeared half tempted to start altering the wiring right then and there.

“I think she’ll do just fine here,” Lúcio complimented with a smile, turning to the centaur named Orisa. “So, you’re made from the remains of an OR15, right?”

The Omnic nodded eagerly, the eyes turning into small arrow tips pointed upward in a happy expression. “Yes, that would be correct. Though, I have a personality module and upgraded equipment.”

“I think I remember seeing some OR14s on the news once during the Null Sector uprising. I guess they really changed the aesthetic with the new models,” Hana commented as she flicked her eyes up and down in a quick assessment.

“Yes, though some of the paint and design is thanks to Efi.”

“I love the name, too. The way Orisa looks like OR15 if you change the numbers for their counterpart letters… MEKA would love that,” D.va complimented fondly, fiddling semi-absently with her bubblegum pink nails.

Orisa made a whirring and clicking sound that must have been her version of laughter. “I appreciate the compliment, Miss Hana Song. Efi is very good at naming things. Though, Efi got a lot of inspiration from you and the people you stream with. She always loved watching you play _StarCraft._ I found it quite enjoyable as well. Mr Lúcio Correia dos Santos, Efi and I are also fans of your work as well,” the robot praised, her voice sweet and melodic.

“Please, Lúcio is fine. I’m always glad to meet a fan, though!” he beamed, and Efi whipped her head around after toying with one of the contraptions.

“Hana works for me, too! And I’m glad you like my streams! You guys should totally guest star at some point!

“Orisa! Shh!” she scolded, flustered at the sudden attention drawn to her. “But… were you serious about the whole ‘appearing on stream’ thing?” she reluctantly tagged on, bouncing from foot to foot. “I swear I know a lot about _StarCraft!_ Not as much as you, but I can still play!”

D.va grinned, patting Efi on the back.

“Of course! My stream would love you!”

Efi’s eyes lit up brighter than the sun as she continued to bounce on her toes. “Woah! That sounds awesome, then! But… uh… don’t you guys go on missions, or something?” the little girl asked, antsy. “I mean, that’s why Orisa came and all.”

Hana and Lúcio exchanged nervous glances. Lúcio cleared his throat. “Well, yeah. We have a few minor missions where we’re finding new recruits, plus a major one that popped up just before you joined,” he answered carefully.

“Really? What is it?” Efi took on a whole new demeanour. No longer the hyperactive excitable kid. She could tell this was serious.

“You know Tracer?” Hana began, despite Lúcio’s unsure glance.

“Of course! She’s only the most famous Overwatch agent in the world! Come to think of it, I haven’t seen her around, though. Is she missing?”

“Worse than that. The details are… complicated, but… okay, we might want to take this to the kitchen. I’ll make us some tea or something.”

Efi quirked her head. “Okay. Can I have chocolate milk? And not the lame kind made with the powdery stuff, but regular milk with chocolate syrup in it?”

Hana offered a high-five, which Efi eagerly accepted. “Of course! Now you’re speaking my language! You in on the chocolate milk club, Lú?”

Lúcio laughed nervously. “Yeah, sure! Come on, we’ll head to the kitchen.” Efi cheerily led the way, with Orisa trailing close behind as Lúcio nudged Hana with his elbow. “You sure about telling her? She is just a kid…”

Hana turned to the DJ with a stern expression. “You’d be surprised what kids can handle. They’re not as fragile as you’d think.” Lúcio visibly flinched at the certainty under her voice. This was a girl with a tough childhood. “Plus, it’s not like she isn’t going to find out.”

“Hey! Come on, guys! What’s keeping you?” Efi called from the other side of the room.

“Just… we’ll play it cool, but be open,” she explained to Lúcio, who nodded. “Coming, Efi!”

It was roughly ten minutes later when they each had large cups of chocolate milk, sipping through colourful straws tentatively as Orisa watched passively.

Hana took a deep breath. “So… about Tracer. Let’s start from the beginning. How much do you know about her?”

Efi thought for a moment. “Well… I remember reading old reports from about eight or nine years ago online about Lena ‘Tracer’ Oxton going MIA after a test flight. Did I use that word correctly? Ah, whatever. Anyway, then over a year later more reports had shown up in old news outlets after the Null Sector incident was solved in King’s Row. She had that odd machine around her chest for the first time, too.”

Hana nodded approvingly. “You see, that machine… Lúcio, didn’t you say it was called the chronal accelerator?” Hana continued as Lúcio nodded, taking another sip of his drink. “Well, its job is to keep her stabilised or something. I don’t know all the details, but I’m sure Winston could explain. Anyway, she needs it to not suffer from her condition. She wears it at all times. Someone from Talon, who I’m sure you’re familiar with, hacked into it and used it to trick her into running to them.”

Efi paused mid-sip and set the cup down pensively. “So, in other words, she’s in Talon custody? Talon is infamous for cases of inhumane treatment of prisoners, and there have been rumours they have a habit of torturing and brainwashing victims.”

Lúcio and Hana visibly winced at the blunt truth. Efi blushed as they did so. “People don’t like telling me things since I’m young. I usually have to do the research myself. Anyway, she’s being tortured, isn’t she?”

Lúcio sighed sadly. “Yeah, we think she is.”

“Well… once we figure out where she is, I’m sure you can manage a rescue mission! Then, we’ll just need to do everything in our power to help her afterwards!” Hana smiled warmly at the little girl. She was full of naive optimism. It was clear she’d never seen the actual darkness of the world through anything other than screens. However, it did make for an excellent morale booster. “Look, I know to you guys I’m just a kid, but just tell me what I can do to help find her and I will! And tell me what I can do to help her afterwards, and I will! That’s why Orisa and I came here! To help people! So, whatever I can do, just ask. Later I’ll go ask Winston to explain the chronal accelerator to me. I’m sure I could find some way to help using that information.

Hana nodded in affection at the girl’s eager desire to help. “Of course we will. We’ll save Tracer for sure. But for now… how about Orisa shows us what she can do?”

Efi’s face lit up joyfully. “Ok! Yeah! Orisa, are you okay with that?”

“Of course, Efi. My systems are fully operational and prepared for combat,” the Omnic replied, her voice calm yet eager.

“Woohoo! I think you guys will love what she can do! I added some really cool upgrades! Let’s go!” Efi led the way to the practice field, a cup of chocolate milk in hand.

…

Widowmaker followed Reaper Tracer’s cell. The purple trimmings that gave the dismal grey walls some amount of life began to flake and dull, giving the hallway of cells a more sick and cold feeling. They both wordlessly rounded the corner, Reaper clutching the remote tightly, and Widowmaker holding a metal trinket that looked similar to Sombra’s translocator, except with four spiked protrusions on the bottom that appeared similar to spider legs. In her other hand, she held the lone pistol Tracer had brought with her to Talon.

Tracer’s cell was in the very back, farthest away from prying eyes. There were two small, unlocked doorways on either side of the door that led to the room where Sombra and reaper would do maintenance on the devices that kept the girl trapped by her condition. They electronic transmitters initially scrambled and confused Omnics, but as they were hooked up to supplies of chronal energy, they were able to be repurposed.

Reaper quickly punched in a code and pulled off his glove to use the fingerprint scanner. A small red button began to glow green, which he pressed after he put his glove back on. Tracer did not appear to have moved since Widowmaker left her the previous day. She was facing away from the door, facing the wall with her legs curled as close to her as she could manage with her limited space. She was holding her arms close to her and appeared to be shivering even in her sleep. The room was relatively warm to Widowmaker, but that didn’t mean much.

Widowmaker leant passively against the wall as Reaper calmly strode towards the exhausted girl. She’d been given roughly five hours of sleep; that would be plenty, according to Reaper.

The ghost of a man pressed one of the buttons on the remote, and the dim blue glow of the devices keeping her stabilised all but vanished. Tracer was being secured by a thread, less than the backup power on her accelerator allowed, barely keeping her from fading. Her form began to flicker unreliably, and she jolted awake, practically jumping out of bed in stiff, pained movements. She stumbled as she did so, leaning on the wall for support as she shot Reaper a panicked look, her breathing accelerating as her chest rose and fell in quick, sporadic bursts.

“Time to wake up, my pet.” Reaper cooed in the unnerving raspy voice only someone like him could pull off. Tracer’s panic became a stony glare filled with trepidation, she looked about ready to snap at him, only to find her words fail; she slipped, her hand phased through the iron bed as she snapped back upwards.

“Widowmaker,” Reaper called, gesturing for her to come. Widowmaker rolled her eyes, taking small, tentative steps over to him, clicking a few buttons to turn on the device in her hands. It hummed, a small, blue gear glowing and spinning in the middle, roughly the size of a bottle cap. Tracer pressed herself against the wall, her arms close in a guarded position.

“Turn around,” Reaper ordered. Tracer just glared defiantly. Widowmaker huffed softly in slight amusement.  “Turn around,” Reaper repeated, his voice darker and more menacing. Tracer refused, though tensed up in preparation for punishment. Widowmaker remained passive, only waiting. “Very well,” the man that once was Gabriel Reyes pressed a button on the remote, and Tracer seemed to make a silent cry of agony as the cuffs, also flickering slightly, began to spark and crackle. Tracer writhed on the ground, twitching and jerking in random directions for several seconds until finally settling down, gasping for breath. It was odd how she was so utterly silenced. It was like watching a movie with the volume off.

Before she could get to her feet, Widowmaker pulled down the collar of Tracer’s jacket, placing the device just above her sports bra and below her collar. The girl visibly flinched as the pointed ends burrowed into her skin, latching onto her firmly. Tracer’s form solidified, and her ragged, uneven breaths became painfully audible as she grunted, trying to get the device piercing her skin off. She screeched again as she attempted to pull off the machine piercing her skin as it sent waves of electricity through her body. She sputtered, hacked, coughed into her hand, pulling it back a vivid red. Then she resumed her glaring at Reaper.

“Get up.” He ordered directly. This time, the girl obeyed begrudgingly, using the walls as a means to walk herself upward. “Hold your arms out.” She did so, with her fists clenched tight as she held her arms out like one would do so to be handcuffed. Reaper turned a few dials and switches on the remote and pressed a button. Tracer’s arm cuffs stuck together like glue, clanging together noisily. She grunted and struggled in an attempt to pull her arms apart for several seconds, but the magnets seemed intent on sticking together. Her eyes dimmed as her eyes moved to the floor, swaying back and forth.

“Now, you will follow me Widowmaker. I will be close behind. Try something at your own risk,” he warned, prodding her to move. Widowmaker turned away from the two of them expressionlessly, leading the way to Tracer’s next “exercise.” Tracer kept her head down as Widowmaker led them through several corridors, some busier than others. Many of the agents and employees shot Widowmaker and Reaper terrified glances, hurrying away, though reactions at the prisoner between them ranged from sympathetic to indifferent to horrified. A quick glance at Tracer revealed her shoulders to be hunched with her head bowed down; her cheeks were a vivid red as she shook with humiliation.

Then the group reached the proper room. It was rather large, with a huge, metal cage in the very centre, easily large enough for multiple people to run around with a broad range of motion. There were thick iron doors on either side of the cage, with the one they were closest to being open, and roughly a five-metre space to walk on every side surrounding the cage. Between each bar of the cage, however, was reinforced glass that kept anyone outside the cage safe from any stray bullets while still contributing to the overall design, which aimed to make the person inside it feel like an animal at the zoo.

Reaper abruptly grabbed Tracer by the arm, causing her to yelp as he used one hand to deactivate the magnets as her arms finally came loose. Widowmaker gave him the pistol, which he shoved into her arms. Reaper pushed the prisoner into the cage, causing her to stumble and fall as he slammed the door shut behind her.

Tracer was confused, to say the least, as she looked around at the three or four bystanders in the room, who watched her like a thing on display. Still glaring at anyone daring to make eye contact, she pushed herself onto her feet, grabbing her pistol, unsure of what to do with it. Widowmaker could practically see her weigh the pros and cons of shooting anyone in the room when the doors opened, her eyes dimming when she realised how bad of an idea it was. The prisoner watched warily as a door on the other side of the room opened, and two people walked through. One was a human holding some sort of remote, and one was an Omnic, who’s movements were stiff and unnatural, even for a robot. The man unlocked and opened the cage door, and the Omnic walked through automatically. Then he spoke, it was quiet and strained, his voice box barely functional.

“Help… me… Can’t… control…” he strained, standing stiff as a statue while Tracer whipped her head around and stared in panic at Reaper. Her owner issued a simple command.

“Kill the Omnic.” Tracer’s eyes widened in horror, then fury at the command. “Oh, and don’t even think about trying to lose. I can promise you that we will not let you die here, and should you try, you **will** regret it,” he added ominously as Widowmaker leant back against the wall to watch.

It was evident the Omnic was being controlled, and Tracer had figured that out, too. The lights on his head shone purple rather than the usual blue or yellow, and on the side of his neck, attached to some wires, was a device roughly the size of someone’s thumb, blinking the same hue as the Omnic’s lights.

The Omnic himself looked like an amalgamation of other models. A gun from an e54 bastion’s recon mode seemed to have been patched onto its forearm, the difference in metal and wiring being all too apparent. Its legs were an unnaturally bulky, vivid purple, reminiscent of the OR14 units from the King’s Row attack, and the rest of the Omnic was a tangle of wires and metal haphazardly patched onto his body. It was clear this was the result of one of the science departments “robotics projects.”

The man on the other side of the room flipped some switches on his remote, and the Omnic began to move and it and Tracer began to circle each other as the girl trembled in trepidation, not sure what to do.

The Omnic shot first, aiming for Tracer’s head as the recon gun whirred as it fired. Tracer dove out of the way, already prepared. Tracer began to run around the walls of the cage as the Omnic shot wildly, the man on the controls obviously being inept at aiming in such a way as Tracer ducked and rolled, surprisingly able to avoid the bullets, which didn’t fire very often.

Tracer slid under the Omnic’s massive legs, popping up with a spray of her pulse pistol’s energy bullets to the Omnic’s arm. It would be far from a fatal shot as the gun began to bend and twist oddly, and the bullets stopped firing correctly.

“Please… help… don’t want… to die,” the Omnic croaked again as Tracer faltered. The Omnic, or more accurately, the man controlling the Omnic, took this chance and rammed into Tracer as they both toppled to the ground. Tracer managed to twist out from the awkward Omnic mass trying to hold her down and snap back up, this time firing into the Omnic’s legs.

“Stop it stop it please!” the Omnic pleaded hoarsely as Tracer shot up his leg, oil and sparks spraying outward. Tracer froze, dropping her pistol on the spot, her face contorting into agony as she stumbled backwards, confliction written all over her face. Her eyes flicked to the ground, then to the little purple bug on the Omnic, determination setting in her eyes.

“Oh, looks like she has an idea,” Reaper mused in a sing-song voice.

“It appears she does,” Widowmaker responded in indifference.

The man at the controller took advantage of Tracer’s weakness, throwing the Omnic at her as he pinned her down. This time it was on top of her, almost crushing her as she wheezed. Tracer struggled, lifting her head up and using her arm. She then grabbed the machine on her neck keeping her stabilized. She roared in agony as it sent jolts of electricity throughout her, the electricity being conducted over to the Omnic, who was doing the same as they both cried out in harmonic pain and despair. Everyone in the room save Widowmaker and Reaper shivered.

When the device finished shocking the two of them, the Omnic lay limp on the ground, temporarily stunned. Tracer used her legs to push him off her once she finished convulsing. Then, without hesitation, she grabbed the bug on his neck and pulled it off. The device sparked. The Omnic sparked. Then the lights on the robot dimmed into nothing.

Tracer sat there, stunned as any signs of life or movement in the Omnic ceased. The bug fell from her grasp, loose wires frayed at the end. Tracer remained on her knees, eyes wide and jaw agape.

“Well done, my pet.” Reaper praised, unlocking the cage and gesturing for Widowmaker to help her. “Did I forget to mention that the bug controlling the Omnic was also directly wired to his power source? By removing that, you managed to deactivate him. Permanently. I’m very proud,” he continued to coo as Widowmaker helped Tracer to her feet. The girl was practically dead weight in her arms, doing nothing to help nor impose as Widowmaker walked her outside the cage. She was numb, her eyes having dulled over as she looked at nothing in particular.

Reaper didn’t even bother reactivating the magnets on Tracer’s cuffs. Her arms were limp, each step sluggish as they took her back to her cell. When they arrived, she wordlessly returned to the bed and rolled over on it, turning away from her owners.

“You did well today,” Reaper repeated. “Widowmaker will bring you another meal for that. Keep this up, and you can be one of Talon’s top agents in no time.” With those parting words, Reaper left to return to his chambers.  
“I will be right back, _chérie,_ with your food,” Widowmaker nodded to the girl who refused to acknowledge her as she left to get the starved girl some more sustenance.

Widowmaker couldn’t help but muse what she had seen as she prepared the prisoner’s food. Tracer seemed insistent on being rebellious despite knowing it would lead to nothing but pain. And yet, she also gave in when she knew there was no battle to fight. It was strangely contradictory, that she continued her feeble attempts at rebellion at such random times. Tracer had thought remove the bug would free the Omnic, no doubt, yet Widowmaker had to wonder what she would’ve done had it actually done so. Tracer was eerily similar to how Amélie had behaved during her time in a cell. If she were to wager, she’d say tomorrow Tracer would return with new resolve to put up as much of a fight as possible. It was admirable, if foolish. And Widowmaker knew for a fact, given what was planned tomorrow, that rebellion would lead to a whole new level of agony. She vaguely wondered if Tracer would be able to take it.

Widowmaker returned with a tray of the same food from the previous day ten minutes later. Tracer had not budged from the position she was in earlier, not at all reacting as Widowmaker released the collar.

“Tracer. Sit up,” the assasin ordered, her voice neither harsh nor kind. Tracer obeyed, her head tipping to the side lifelessly like a ragdoll. Widowmaker gently pulled the loose collar off Tracer’s neck. The skin beneath it was horribly burnt; layers of tissue having been quickly burnt off as blood began to run down her neck. The black and red flesh smelled vile, a mixture of burning flesh and the copper smell of blood.

Tracer took the food and ate, though her movements were lifeless and sluggish despite her slow starvation being all-too apparent. When all the food was finally done, Widowmaker collected the now-empty tray and handed the towel to the filthy girl. She grabbed it, wiping it over her mangled neck without even trying to be gentle. It must have hurt tremendously to touch such a wound, and the towel came back thoroughly drenched in blood, yet Tracer had hardly flinched. The nerves were likely damaged.

Widowmaker clamped the collar back around Tracer as her dull eyes didn’t so much as look at her. She was shutting down. As she prepared to leave, Widowmaker made a split-second decision. She gently laid her hand on Tracer’s shoulder: the first genuinely gentle touch she’s felt in days. Tracer flinched as though struck by lightning.

Before Widowmaker could pull away, Tracer’s hands flew to the single, blue hand on her shoulder, clamping over it firmly. It was as though a dam broke. Widowmaker could hear Tracer’s attempt at pushing back the sob that had worked its way through her throat. Sitting back down, Widowmaker allowed Tracer to hold onto that one gentle touch as she bowed her head, sobs beginning to wrack her whole body as she trembled, crying tears mixed with blood as her painfully hoarse voice finally expressed her despair. Her loneliness, her regrets, her fear, and her sorrow all came cascading out. Tracer refused to let go of Widowmaker’s abnormally cool hand, desperate for physical contact. For anything. For any glimmer of hope that _things would get better._ That this wasn’t going to be life for her now. And just like that, Widowmaker could feel another layer of the girl’s stubbornness and determination shatter, though she probably didn’t know it. Widowmaker remained there, silent as the girl’s loud sobs reduced themselves to pathetic whimpers. Until finally, she drifted off into a much-needed sleep, leaning limply against the corner of the room, releasing Widowmaker’s hand.

Widowmaker got up and left with the tray. She knew now, for a fact. She knew that it was only a matter of time now until she ultimately gave up.

 


	17. Permanent

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to my buddy Eric566 for reading over the fun bits of this chapter. You rock, friend-o! I'm super tongue and... what's the next word? Cheek? Sheak? Sheikah? I dunno. Anyway, have fun with this wholesome chapter!

**Chapter 17- Permanent**

Hanzo waited among the rooftops for his brother. The air was fresh and crisp as it wafted by, sending a pleasant chill down the sniper’s spine. Sirens wailed in the distance in tandem with the honking of car horns from the busy streets a few miles away. Hanzo’s old home peaked over the walls on the top of the hill, only a few miles away. The roof was concrete and quiet, the noise of the city fading into distant ambience with no soul nearby to interrupt as Hanzo sat and waited, lit only by the moonlight.

The fact that Genji had managed to find out his HoloVid information, despite it not even being linked to his identity, was somewhat incredible, though not nearly as much of a surprise as it should’ve been. Hanzo’s brother always had a knack for finding information that he had no right to know. The message was also anonymous, but it required no name.

“Shimada Clan still active. They have info I need. I swear to God if you don’t help me, I won’t be the only one that was killed by his brother. Old base, you know the one. I’ll be there in a day, tops, assuming I don’t crash the jet. GTG to Nepal first. And yes, I know I’m using proper punctuation for once. Voice to text is dumb.”

Hanzo snorted as he recalled the message. Genji always had an immature sense of humour, relying on fairly generic and predictable jokes in a relatively self-aware way, yet he somehow never caught on that the elders didn’t exactly appreciate his cynical and snarky personality. That, or he did catch on and never cared. Hanzo would wager the latter. It was evident his brother had held onto that wit despite everything Hanzo had done to him.

Deciding to be productive, Hanzo prepared the items they would need for the invasion. This particular hideout was one Hanzo had been to on occasion, and he knew how to get below the elevator rather than damaging it. From there, his quiver was full of sonic arrows with jamming signals on them to stop cameras, and as Genji once taught him, Hanzo was to always carry a thumb drive with him. There were regular arrows, and some of his scatter arrows as well, and he had enough energy built up for one or two uses of his dragonstrike arrows. Hanzo absently wondered how often Genji was able to use his dragonblade and dragonstrikes. Did Genji even know how to use a bow anymore? Surely he did.

How valuable was the information they were seeking? Genji wouldn’t contact Hanzo for just anything. Sure, the destruction of the Shimada clan was important, but after some poking around, Hanzo had found out Genji was in Overwatch this whole time, and that he was responsible for their initial collapse. Why couldn’t Overwatch take them out again, especially with their revival hitting all the news outlets? No, this was something personal for Genji. The Shimada clan and Talon did something to him, harmed someone close to him. They did something that made Hanzo’s rash baby brother wish to destroy the Shimada Clan in the most painful way possible: with the two princes of the organisation.

If all this was true, then a robotic body had barely changed Genji. Still, the fact remains that Hanzo had stolen Genji’s body, and now Hanzo must redeem himself. Hopefully, this could help. The ninja tipped his head. Off in the distance, he heard the thrum of an aeroplane steadily getting closer. Hanzo stood up and waited, watching as the lights of a small jet came into view, much closer to the ground than any plane not planning to land nearby.

The jet was small, barely large enough for a five or six people. However, when the door opened, only two people stood at the door. One was Genji, the green lights shining brightly on his body. The other was an Omnic, likely the same model as Mondatta given the appearance. It was probably equipped with state-of-the-art hover technology, and electromagnetic hands made for the purpose of dealing with metal in regards to manual labour. Right now, the Omnic dressed as a monk walked next to Hanzo’s brother.

“Hello, brother. I’m pleased you came to help. I wasn’t sure you would,” Genji admitted as he walked out into the cold Hanamura air, his mechanical limbs squeaking no louder than one would hear clothing rustling against their body.

“So, you are the brother I have heard so much about,” the monk greeted. “I am Zenyatta. It is a pleasure to meet you.”

“A pleasure?” Hanzo asked, quirking his eyebrow towards Genji. “I would have expected you to give me a bad reputation. Not that it was undeserved.”

“Meh. I did at first. But then I found inner-peace and other cool ninja-y things like that. The past is in the past,” Genji dismissed, tossing Hanzo an earpiece. “I gave Master access to the feed in there because we both know how bad they are at securing their Wi-Fi. He’ll be watching through my cameras and the security feed there as we do our cool ninja stuff.”

“Nice to see you have not changed,” Hanzo mused as he began climbing down the wall after a curt nod to Zenyatta, who headed back into the ship to move it to a more hidden location.

“Nice to see you’re just as grumpy as last time,” Genji retorted, using a windowsill to perch for a second before jumping to a small ledge on another building. Hanzo grunted in disorientation as he only heard Genji’s voice through the earpiece despite being nearby.

“Mind telling me what information you need before we can use our dragons?”

“Remember Tracer?”

Hanzo quirked an eyebrow. “I am mildly familiar with her, based on the propaganda from years ago.”

“Talon has her.” Genji’s voice was so much more monotone than earlier, it surprised Hanzo.

“What does this matter to you? It’s not like it’s the first time you’ve ever experienced a team member being captured. The Shimada clan failed their missions from time to time.”

“She is a valued team member, and she helped me come to terms with my new form. If it weren’t for her, I’d have never found my master. Now Talon has captured her, and I plan on finding out where she is so I can take them down myself.”

Hanzo landed gently on the roof of the facility, Genji following suit as they ran to the ventilation shaft of the laboratory.

“The alarms are off,” Zenyatta commented from the ship as the twosome opened a nearby vent and began to crawl through, Hanzo being sure to keep his voice down.

“Under what pretence do they have her captured? For information?”

“For conversion,” Genji spat, his voice laced with vile rage. “They’re torturing her.”

“That… seems like something Talon and the Shimada clan would both do. Regardless, are your agents not trained to endure such treatment?”

“We are, and she is very resilient but given her general condition… It’s already been three days. We’re running out of time.”

“Quiet,” Hanzo ordered as they both dropped through the shaft. The reception centre was just as Hanzo remembered it. He quietly strode behind the desk, grabbing a book and unlocking the elevator. From there, Genji followed as he pressed a single button on the elevator before running out, much to Genji’s confusion.

“Where are we…?” Genji mumbled through the communication device.

“If you had paid any attention, or ever visited this place, you’d know that they include a secret entrance,” Hanzo retorted as the blue-clad ninja opened the door to the stairwell, which was only supposed to lead up. Instead, there was a new door, previously hidden by blending into the wall, that had slid open to reveal a downward spiralling stairwell.

“Meh, not worth it,” Genji retorted humorously, jumping downward from level to level as he fearlessly vaulted across the easily one-hundred-meter pit. Hanzo did the same, though with slightly more caution as he refrained from jumping across the gap, instead of dropping from rail to rail, as though descending a massive ladder.

When they reached the bottom, Zenyatta chimed in again. “There are people right outside the doorway, as well as a camera.”

Hanzo wordlessly prepared a jamming arrow, nodding at Genji.

Genji quietly swung the door open, revealing the entrance to a rather small hallway. Hanzo located the camera in a matter of milliseconds, firing his arrow and jamming the feed before anyone could react. The two Shimada clan agents let out surprised chirps, quickly silenced as Shurikens buried themselves into both of their throats. One of the men fell unconscious, soon to be dead, on the spot, while the other let out a guttural, choking sound as he writhed on the floor for several seconds. Hanzo paid him no heed as he continued, firing arrows with the jamming frequency whenever Zenyatta alerted him to a nearby camera, while Genji quickly killed the men they came across. It was only a matter of time until someone found one of the bodies.

Hanzo led Genji through a corridor of twists and turns until they finally reached a room locked with a key card scanner.

“There is a camera in the chamber you approach, however, jamming it with another one of your arrows might damage the computers in the room.”

“Then let us act fast. Brother did you…”

“Way ahead of you,” Genji bragged, pulling out a key card scanner from one of the men they had killed. The cyborg swiped the card. The light beeped red.

“It would appear only authorised access is allowed in there,” Zenyatta commented. “Given the lack of time, I suggest tearing the door down.”

“On it,” Genji replied, unsheathing his green blade. Using his augmented strength, Genji jammed the sword into the door where the main latches would be, quickly swiping his blade to cut the locks. No distinct sounds could be heard, though Zenyatta chimed in again.

“Silent alarms are going off. Be quick. Soldiers are approaching.”

Hanzo swung his bow over his shoulder and ran into the room, quickly plugging in the USB chip he brought as it automatically started downloading any files it could. After roughly sixty seconds of anxious waiting, the chip had seemingly absorbed all it could, a small light turning off as Hanzo pulled it out and pocketed it.

Grabbing his bow, he and Genji nodded to each other as they began to run. They heard men scrambling in the distance, likely preparing a defence for the exit.

Sure enough, probably three dozen agents were waiting as Hanzo rounded the corner to the door. Genji was prepared as they began to fire, jumping in front of Hanzo with his blade as he moved, almost too fast for eyes to track as he blocked all the bullets, protecting Hanzo from any bodily harm.

“Now!” the cyborg shouted, jumping out of the way. Hanzo was ready. Drawing an arrow, he called upon the ancient energy manifesting itself in his blood as his tattoo sparked dangerously.

“ _Ryuu ga waga teki wo kurau_!” Hanzo’s voice echoed through the hallway as two blue dragons wrapped and surrounded the arrow, sprouting outward with a mighty roar that shook the very building. It was a symphony, as dragons roared and man screamed in agony as the dragons bit through and burned their flesh, tearing their lives away from them. The scent of burning flesh assaulted Hanzo’s senses as he stumbled slightly from the sudden drain of energy before righting himself and leading the way to the stairwell as Genji followed close behind, leaving the mound of mangled bodies behind.

The opening into the stairwell was surprisingly large. It would figure Talon would pack one more soldier in there. The main difference was this person dressed in a more traditional Shimada garb, likely a graduate from the ninja classes some were forced to take. His face was hidden by a black hood, with blue stripes trailing his outfit.

“Katsuro,” Hanzo greeted, his voice stony as he slowly strung an arrow. Genji whipped his head towards his brother, probably shocked under the visor.

“Katsuro? That quiet kid from our classes?” he asked aloud.

If Katsuro was surprised to hear Genji’s voice, he didn’t show it, merely glaring from behind his mask. The soft-spoken, timid boy they recalled from their lessons was all but missing, the style of his outfit and weapon choice being the only telling signs of his identity.

His weapons were two gauntlets, both of which had four long blades extending from them, much like claws. Both of his legs were prosthetics beneath the outfit, as indicated by their odd shape

“Katsuro, do not make us harm you,” Hanzo warned, voice low. Genji was already crouched, ready to dash in a moment’s notice.

“Return what you have stolen from the Shimadas,” he commanded, no sympathy in his voice. He pointed a single clawed hand at the two.

“We stole information that has more to do with Talon just so you know,” Genji retorted.

“Talon is the claws of the dragon, that allow it to fight for all it’s worth. Just as you cannot declaw a dragon, the Shimada clan is one with Talon. Perhaps you would be a part of the empire had you not turned your backs on us. Now, return what you have stolen.”

“Never,” Genji stated plainly, his voice cold.

“So be it.” Katsuro lunged at Genji, claws outstretched. Genji ducked swept his foot out in front of him to knock Katsuro off balance, who jumped upward, propelled by his sturdy prosthetics. Genji dashed around the spiral stairs to the next floor, chucking a shuriken at the ninja, who wedged it between his blades and deflected it to the side. Hanzo drew an arrow, following the two of them up the stairs as he prepared a shot, letting it fly as Katsuro appeared across from him one story up.

Katsuro hit the floor, causing the arrow to miss before he lunged off the balcony, diving towards Hanzo, who caught his bladed hand in his bow. Genji fired another shuriken before his brother could be impaled, causing Katsuro to duck to the side. Hanzo grabbed Katsuro’s arm and flipped him over the railing.

Much like a feline, Katsuro flipped himself over and landed gently, vaulting upward again the next moment towards Genji, using his claws to climb the support beams. Hanzo ran up the stairs as the two scuffled. Genji slashed with his sword as Katsuro countered with his claws, using his other in an uppercut motion that forced Genji to backflip away.

Katsuro used his claws to deflect another arrow by twisting them to catch the projectile, and Hanzo could tell his quiver was running low.

Genji vaulted over the gap again, launching a three more shurikens as he twisted around, grabbing firmly onto the railing. Katsuro chased after him, and the two launched themselves upward several more flights until they reached the top, Hanzo following close behind. Hanzo shot again, missing by mere inches, the arrow clattering against the wall as Katsuro dove behind Genji and used his robotic legs to break Genji’s balance as he dropped his blade. Hanzo’s brother stumbled to the ground as he pulled out his sword to intercept the claws intent on slitting his throat.

Hanzo roared as he grabbed lowered his grip on his bow to use it as a melee weapon, swinging at their assailant as he threw up his gauntlets to protect himself, wedging the bow in his claws, and throwing it out of Hanzo’s grasp as it bounced against the wall.

Genji lurched to his feet and swung at Katsuro again, his blade narrowly missing the man. Katsuro took the opportunity and lunged at Hanzo, who tried to jump back, a gash tearing open in his shoulder. He grunted, his hand instinctually moving to cover the wound as Katsuro attacked again, a straight jab, one of the blades completely piercing Hanzo’s right arm, the blade poking out the other end, drenched in crimson.

Hanzo flung himself backwards, dislodging his arm as he landed clumsily on the ground. Katsuro towered over him as he drew his arm back, prepared to end Hanzo’s life.

“Stay away from my brother!” Genji cried as he used Hanzo’s bow to bludgeon Katsuro from the side, knocking him off the balcony as he crashed through the flimsy railing. Katsuro quickly caught himself on the other side, digging his claws into the support beam. Genji was prepared quickly taking one of Hanzo’s remaining arrows as the green lights on his body began to intensify their glow. He drew back the arrow, bellowing the chant Hanzo knew so well as he fired the shot down at Katsuro.

 _“Ryūjin no ken o kurae!”_ From the arrow, two neon green dragons erupted forward with a mighty roar. Katsuro seemed to go limp, even before the dragons reached him. He bowed his head as the jaws of one of the dragons snapped shut around the ninja, and he fell down to the floor twenty metres below, the clang of his gear being the only sound of his landing. Burning flesh wafted up to the brothers; Hanzo wrinkled his nose.

“We should go,” he stated through grit teeth, untying his headband with his good arm, wrapping it around his wound. It was drenched in red in seconds, but it would suffice.

Genji nodded, grabbing his sword and leading the way through the facility as Hanzo followed close behind, holding a small knife with his left arm.

They made it out of the building with relative ease. “Brother, are you able to climb the wall?” Hanzo sighed. “I doubt it,” he admitted. “The blade completely pierced my arm.”

Genji nodded. “My master is on his way to pick us up now. We will head to Overwatch, where we can get you some proper help.”

“I never agreed to go to Overwatch!” Hanzo retorted sharply. “They would likely turn me in!”

Genji made some sort of mechanical snorting sound as the two watched the small jet approach. “Overwatch hosts several criminals. One of the best operatives in Blackwatch is an outlaw cowboy, spurs and all.”

Hanzo raised an eyebrow.

“Do not ask.” Anything else Genji might’ve said was lost to the roar of the jet. The door opened, and Hanzo was greeted with the Omnic setting out medicinal equipment, already grabbing disinfectant and gauze.

“You know how to treat wounds?” Hanzo asked sceptically as he sat down. The Omnic made a robotic chuckling noise.

“No, but my pupil certainly doesn’t. A quick Internet search taught me what I needed. Now please be still.”

One thing was sure: Zenyatta was much better at treating wounds than Genji would ever be. Genji flew the jet for the next ten minutes as Zenyatta treated Hanzo’s wound. Soon, his arm was completely wrapped with most of the bleeding stopped.

“You will still need proper medical attention, but this should prevent further injury,” Zenyatta told Hanzo as he stood up to take the controls from Genji, who had only been haphazardly flying up to that point.

“Thank you, Zenyatta-san,” Hanzo expressed, pulling out the USB chip from the pocket in which he had been holding it. “Brother, what should we do with this? If anything has the information you seek, it’ll be on here, along with plenty more details about the Shimada Clan and Talon.”

Genji hummed, stretching as he sat in one of the flight seats. “It’s probably encrypted, and we’d better run it on a computer separate to Overwatch just to be safe. We’ll let Winston dig through it to find what we need, and do what we want with the rest later.”

Hanzo nodded, tossing him the chip, which he deftly caught, rolling it around in his hands. “Very well. And what do you expect to do once you’ve got this location?”

“Storm the place. We’re going on a rescue mission. I am going to save Tracer. Nothing will stop me. Talon messed with the wrong person, and now, they’re going to pay. I’ll kill them all. Anyone who tries to stop me from reaching the one they stole from us.”

…

If there was anything Symmetra was expecting when she unboarded the plane, it was more… organization. Instead, a blue gorilla lumbered over to the small crew haphazardly flipping through notes on a clipboard.

“Ah, yes, you must be Satya Vaswani, correct? Welcome, welcome! We’re glad to have you! I’m Winston.”

“That is your surname?” One of the associates next to Satya asked sceptically, her clipboard already full of any of the paperwork that needs to be done.

“No, I do not have a surname,” he answered distractedly as he prepared some documents. “I have all the necessary files for the agent transfer. ‘In exchange for Satya “Symmetra” Vaswani’s services in field work and construction, she will be permitted a spot in Overwatch’s higher council.’ All I need are a few more signatures, and we will be ready.”

Five minutes later, all the paperwork was done, and Vishkar left her with a small bag of her equipment and a giant Gorilla.

“So, Agent Vaswani, I’ll be having our lead doctor, Angela Ziegler, lead you around. I figured you would prefer her company as to our more… rowdy additions.”

Satya nodded. “That will be most appreciated. Thank you, Mr Winston.”

“Just Winston will do,” he assured as the two exited the hangar and passed through a few hallways.

“I would rather refer to you with an honorific. Everyone is deserving of one.”

Winston nodded stiffly. “O-okay. That is fine. Regardless, we have currently been devoting most of our resources to a particular mission, but you will still likely find yourself faced with a fair amount of free time. In that time, we have prepared a workshop for you that you are free to do with as you please, and so long as you aren’t given an assignment, your time is yours.”

“That seems somewhat lax, if I may be so bold,” Satya admitted, her hand twitching nervously.

“Yes, but most everyone here is good about getting in their training. We have had no reason to be stricter. Ah! We’re here!” Winston knocked gently on a spotless white door with “Medical wing” labelled above it in red.

Symmetra could feel herself relax as she stepped into the orderly room. Shelves were lined with medicinal items, each of them carefully labelled. On several sides were doorways leading to other rooms for patients, likely filled with even more items. This was the bulk storage room.

“Dr Ziegler?” Winston called. Shuffling could be heard from one of the rooms as a woman wearing a lab coat with a blonde ponytail exited in a hurry.

“Oh, Winston! What a pleasure! You must be the new recruit, Ms Satya ‘Symmetra’ Vaswani, correct? It is wonderful to meet you!”

“Likewise. You are Dr Ziegler?” she asked stiffly, bowing slightly.

“Yes, I am. Winston, you may go.” The doctor turned to Symmetra after Winston gave a curt nod and lumbered out. “I must finish up with this patient. She will be joining us as we go. I will show you the main facilities.”

Symmetra nodded, “As you wish,” she mumbled with a growing unease that this would be one of the “rowdier” recruits.

As it turns out, Ms Mei-ling Zhou was incredibly calm and comfortable to be around. “Ms Vaswani, what do you do in your free time?” The short Asian girl asked as the threesome walked out the medical wing after the introductions were out of the way.

“I utilise the latest hard-light technology to manufacture whatever is needed.”

“Hard light? Is that a recent technology?” the climatologist asked with interest sparkling in her eyes.

“It has been used publicly for approximately three years.”

“Ah, no wonder I don’t know about it then. See, I was frozen in cryostasis for a while, so I’m still catching up on everything I missed,” the girl admitted, her eyes dulling slightly.

“I see. That must be… difficult,” Satya comforted awkwardly.

“Haha, don’t worry about it.” Mei assured as the group reached a room with a name tag reading “Agent Satya ‘Symmetra’ Vaswani” on it.

“Here we are!” Dr Ziegler cheerfully declared, pressing a few buttons on the keypad. “Here, Satya. If you would please put your hand on the fingerprint scanner?”

“Yes, Dr Ziegler,” Satya pulled off her white glove and presented her prints to the device, grateful for the distraction. The room was… tidy, if Satya had to describe it in a word. The walls were baby blue, with clean, white covers on the bed. They seemed comfortable. The curtains were a silky white and cold to the touch. The dresser was sanded to perfection, with a lamp on top.

“I hope you find the room to your liking. We tried to keep it somewhat organised. We like to keep the rooms comfortable for the agents.”

“I do not need to share the chamber? I was expecting bunks,” Symmetra nervously admitted.

“Well, we do not have enough agents here to justify using the bunk rooms. Even then, you were promised a high-ranking position among us so you will be equal to us. The only one here we consider to be the superiors are Winston, the commander, the captain, and myself. You will meet them later, though.”

“I see. Thank you. You have been most hospitable,” Symmetra commented lamely, soaking it all in.

“You haven’t seen the lab, yet! Come on!” Mei declared in excitement, marching across the hall. The lab, as it turns out, was a large room with plenty of electrical outlets, desks, HoloVid monitors, and tools for various uses.

Symmetra stepped in tentatively, not sure what to say. “And this lab is… mine, you say?”

“Of course,” Dr Ziegler assured with a smile. We want to make sure you are comfortable while you spend your time here. Overwatch has many of the rowdy types here, and I figured someone coming from Vishkar would need a place where we don’t have cowboys and pyromaniacs making a hubbub.”

Symmetra paled. “Pardon?”

Mercy chuckled. “As I said, Overwatch has fairly odd groups here.”

“I-I see.”

Mei fiddled with her hands. “They’re really not so bad once you get to know them. They’re just super chaotic. Now come on, want to go to the kitchen? I can make us some tea in the meantime.”

“Oh, Mei! That sounds lovely. How about it, Agent Vaswani? You can drop your stuff off in the lab or your room, and we can go. How does that sound?”

“As you wish.” Setting her bag on the nearby table, Symmetra followed the twosome to the kitchen. Keeping her head down, she felt herself bump into another agent.

“Hey, watch it, Vishkar!” she heard the man snap. She looked up to come face-to-face with Lúcio Correia dos Santos, the DJ that robbed Vishkar.

Symmetra glared at the man. “I was not aware that you would be here,” she commented coldly.

“I wasn’t excited to hear you were coming either, to be fair.”

“You will return what you have stolen from Vishkar,” she demanded, ignoring the twosome behind her.

“Stole? Yeah, I took a device made to brainwash those who listen to the music. I did the world a favour. Besides, where do you think this fancy tech comes from?” he retorted, almost crushing the soda can he was holding. It was then that Symmetra noticed two children behind him, one likely eighteen or nineteen, and one who couldn’t be above twelve. They exchanged nervous glances.

“The hard work of our scientists,” she declared, clasping her hands in front of her.

Lúcio barked a laugh. “Hah! Ask your bosses where this tech came from, then we’ll talk about returning it.”

“How would a street ruffian like you know anything?”

Lúcio fumed. “Wanna know why we’re at the bottom? It’s because of bigots like you.” The DJ whipped his head around. “Hana, Efi, let’s go.”

“Uh… it was nice to meet you, Ms Vishkar?” the little girl asked in confusion.

“Vaswani. Satya Vaswani.” Symmetra corrected stiffly, watching the DJ storm off with cold eyes.

Of course. Sorry. Well… see you later, Ms Vaswani?” the bowed slightly, and turned to follow Lúcio. Hana frowned but still followed.

“I was not aware I would have to work with him,” Symmetra sighed, turning back to her new acquaintances.

“Unfortunately, you will be working with him on occasion. Regardless, do not feel obligated to train with him or anything of the sorts. He is just as on edge as you are.”

Symmetra nodded curtly. “As you wish.”

Mei hummed. “But enough with that downy-frowny stuff. Come on, I’ll make tea!”

“Tea would be enjoyable,” Symmetra admitted as she followed Mei to the kitchen.

…

Tracer woke up coughing and sputtering as the electrical current jolted her awake. She managed to stay on the bed as she squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for the pain to subside. She felt the cold claws of Reaper grab the collar of her jacket, yanking her off the table and onto the ground. She kept her eyes shut, not wanting to see anything, in hopes that it would go away.

“Good morning, my pet. How did you sleep?” Reaper cooed, planting his foot firmly on the cuff of Tracer’s right leg.

Lena said nothing, only yelping as another electrical current ripped through her, fast and intense.

“I am speaking to you.”

“I slept _wonderfully,_ **love** ,” she retorted bitterly. “Bet we have another day of fun planned, huh?”

“Immense fun. However, you could avoid it all by joining us,” he offered ominously.

“Go to hell,” she spat. Reaper laughed.

“I’ll meet you there. Now, ready for the rules? I’m going to press a button, and you will find yourself able to recall. When I say so, you will recall.

She felt the weight on her leg increase as he picked his other one up. Tracer gritted her teeth and tipped her head away.

Her shrill screams drowned the sickening **snap**. Red. Her vision went red, she couldn’t think. Blood roared in her ears. Her knee. Her knee. Her knee. She was screaming. She couldn’t stop. Pain. Bloody, roaring, red agony. It was consuming, hungry for her mind as each heartbeat radiated with hot and cold and sharp pain.

“Recall,” she faintly heard Reaper order. She became aware of that ever-present feeling of the roar of time, as she dove into the current, letting it sweep her back several seconds before she was forced back into Reaper’s clutches. Tracer gasped for breath at the few moments of relief.

Then it was gone. Reaper snatched her ankle upward, causing her head to hit the ground as he drew his other hand back. Tracer started shaking.

 **Snap.** Screaming. She couldn’t control the wailing as she writhed in his grasp. Her knee. Her knee. Her knee. The bones grinded against each other, rattling loosely as she jerked from side to side in agony. Fire consumed her and red was her vision as pain closed its jaws around her being.

“Recall.” Tracer didn’t hesitate, plunging backwards in time for a blissful second of relief. She gasped as tears rolled onto the ground.

 **Snap.** The pulsing agony wouldn’t let her go as she screeched, begged, pleaded for an end. She recalled, only to be reduced to a shrieking, writhing mess as sparks jutted out from her collar, her skin almost smoking.

“I did not tell you to recall!” Reaper scolded furiously. “You do not get to act of your own accord. You are not your own person anymore. A _freak_ like you is a weapon to be owned and controlled. You will surrender the controls to me!”

Tracer whimpered as he grabbed her leg again. **Snap.**

Screaming.

“Recall.”

**Snap.**

Red.

“Recall.”

**Snap.**

Blood.

“Recall.”

**Snap.**

Anguish.

“Recall.”

**Snap.**

Crying.

“Recall.”

Tracer panted, desperately attempting to scramble away before Reaper could grab her ankle to no avail. She gritted her teeth, humiliation burning as much as the pain.

**Snap.**

No.

“Recall.”

She wouldn’t be his pet so easily.

**Snap.**

Not… give… up…

“Recall.”

If she was going down, she needed to fight!

**Snap.**

End it.

“Recall.”

She would not give up like this… if she was lucky, she could finally be free, one way or another.

 **Snap**.

No. No. No.

“Recall.”

No. No. No.

“I said Recall!” Reaper commanded as Tracer lied there, trembling and crying, leg bent forward with bones jutting out.

No. No. No.

“Recall!” he ordered again. **SNAP.**

Screaming. Agony. Blood. No. No. No.

“Recall!”

No.

“You will not recall? I believe you only have a few seconds left before this is **permanent.** Now. _Recall_.”

No. No. No.

“Fine.”

Zapping and crackling and screaming and blood and it never ended. It **never ended.** She couldn’t move, couldn’t move, could not move. Cuffs stuck. Tracer was stuck. She coughed and cried and blood came out but nobody heeded her calls. She was alone. Her right leg was forward, bent wrong. It was wrong. Very wrong. Nothing was right. Or was this right now?

Every beat of her pulse was agony as everything in her was enveloped by the monster that was pain. She whimpered and trembled and shouted, her pleas falling on deaf ears. Reaper. Reaper was there. He was bending down. His cold claw was on her chin, making her look at the mask.

“Next time, when I say recall, you recall. Understood?”

Lena pathetically moaned and tried to nod. Couldn’t move. Burning. Crimson.

“I think you’ll just stay right here for a while. How about that? I think you’ll be ready to behave by tomorrow, won’t you? Maybe if you obey tomorrow, you can have a meal. You’ve voided your options considerably with that stunt. I’ll be surprised if your leg can heal after that.”

Reaper laughed, dark and creepy and frightening. “Ironic, is it not? A crippled freak show who is only good for running.” Reaper left. Vision was blurry, spots everywhere. Couldn’t feel leg. Knee still hurt. Everything else was angry and burning. Stuck to floor. A pet to be punished on leash.


	18. Video

_**Chapter 18-Video** _

“Gabriel, you moron! What do you think you’re doing?” Sombra almost shouted as her boss passed her by in the hall, prepared to meet Lena for their next day of “activities.”

“You’ll have to elaborate,” he croaked, apparently knowing what she meant.

“You’ve not even been treating Tracer like a person, that’s what!” Sombra shouted, gritting her teeth at the memory of the girl contorted on the ground, her leg deformed. Her movements were all latent as Sombra tried to sneak her some water to drink, but Lena had not even been able to hold the bottle without help.

“I have my methods, and they will work,” he assured as Sombra turned around to follow him. “I am very _persuasive._ ”

“If you’re trying to get info from someone and they can die afterwards, sure, whatever. You do you. But we’re supposed to be able to work with her, and she’s already knocking on Death’s Door.”

“We have doctors.”

Sombra huffed, fiddling with her nails. “Yes, we have doctors, but they’re not miracle workers! There’s no way they can fix her leg if it’s just left like that, being treated as it is!”

“Then we get her a prosthetic. Rest assured, I will not let her die. She will be loyal to us for a good while,” he swore, putting his hand on Sombra’s shoulder, causing her to shiver.

“But... we have people here that actually specialise in this sort of ‘brainwashing’ thing. Why trouble yourself and the medical team for something that’s not really in anyone’s best interest?”

“Oh, I have my reasons. Speaking of which, did you finish what I asked for?”

Sombra sighed as she pulled up her HoloVid and swiped through some files. “Masterful Segway, Gabe. Anyway, having the accelerator itself was far more useful than just the blueprints. I’ve been able to analyse and sort everything out properly. I’d say I have one of the toys you want ready. As for the other one, the Helix tech proved annoying to work with, but I’ll have it done in time.”

Reaper nodded approvingly. “Good. That will be very useful in the future. Now, is there a reason you sought me out other than to complain about my methods?” he asked coolly as he spun the remote he used to control Lena’s electronics in his hand.

“Thought you might want to know that the Shimada base in Hanamura was attacked. Pretty minor stuff,” Sombra snarled, flipping to some reports from the base. “And a little poking revealed it to have been the Shimada heir and his cyborg brother. They took a lot of information at the base. This includes some profiles on our agents and who we have here, the Widowmaker project, and our current list of prisoners and where they are.”

Reaper chuckled, almost eagerly. “In other words, they know where we’re keeping the pilot.”

Sombra rolled her eyes. “I know you like genocide-ing and stuff, but seriously? Can you at least pretend you don’t thirst for the blood of your enemies? Anyway, yeah. There’s a bit of encoding on the data, but I didn’t make it. They’ll be able to find out where we are.”

“Perfect,” The hairs on the back of Sombra’s neck stood up at his raspy, excited voice. “You say you wish for me to stop hurting the girl? Then after today, I will do no such thing. Get me your latest creation.”

Sombra paled. “You mean you’re going to…?”

“Unless you think I should go with the original plan?” Reaper taunted at Sombra’s shock.

“But… that isn't exactly going to buy her loyalty, is it?”

“You’d be surprised. Plus, I have another ‘toy’ I’d like you to make. It takes priority over our current project, in fact. I’m sure you won’t mind. I will give you the details later. For now, just give me the machine you have finished.

Shaking her head and shrugging, Sombra flicked her wrist. “Jeez. You know I’m not even a scientist, right? You’re lucky I’m good with her chronal tech. Anyway, yeah, whatever. I’ll get you the Toy. Can we call it that? The Toy? I’m going to call it that. Regardless, I just need to work out one or two kinks, and it’ll be ready to go. Just come by and pick it up,” she promised as they approached Tracer’s room. “Why not start that plan today, though? No point in half killing her.”

“Because it’s time to make a show of it. Time to finally let Overwatch see what we’ve been up to. You have your camera, don’t you?”

Sombra fidgeted in place, bouncing from leg to leg. She waved her hand, revealing a moderately sized camera that used hover technology to suspend itself properly, much like a drone from a few decades ago. “You know I always have a camera or two with me.”

“Good. It’s time to put it to use.”

“Whatever you say, Gabe. Give me ten minutes to hack the planet. Minor stuff.”

…

“Wow, Efi! You did a fantastic job on that OR15! Look at her go!” Lúcio whistled as Orisa’s gun tore through the training bots with ease. Hana whooped in delight while Efi blushed.

“You’re just saying that to make me feel good,” Efi denied, flattered.

“No way! I’d never be able to do that! I don’t think I’d ever be able to do something like that! I mean, I know sound setups, and I can tinker with Vishkar tech, but wow! Is that a graviton charge? No way!” Lúcio beamed at Orisa as she galloped around the bots, effortlessly taking them all out as Athena did her best to reconstruct them promptly.

“Yeah, I know how to do emergency maintenance on my mech, but you’ll have to help me upgrade the guns sometimes! They’re a bit slow for my taste.”

Efi nodded cheerily. “Sure thing! It shouldn’t be too hard! Should we get started after Orisa is done here? I can probably finish it with a day of work.”

“Hey, don’t worry about it right now!” Hana shook her hands, flexing her fingers. “Lúcio and I have got a stream planned for tonight. We’ll be raising money for Overwatch. You’re free to join! We’ll be playing a bunch of retro games! We need a third player for _Legend of Zelda: Triforce Heroes_ , anyway.”

Efi laughed. “I’ve never heard of that game! Can Orisa come and hang out, too?”

“Well, yeah! We have some four player games too! It’ll be great. Winston gave us a room to dedicate just to streaming, so we made the perfect party game set up!”

Efi tipped her head. “Isn’t this place supposed to be full of fighters and such?”

Hana chuckled. “Well, tomorrow we’re going to train. But there’s more to Overwatch than fighting.”

Lúcio nodded. “You know about the science department, but there’s also the publicity side. Hana and I make sure this place gets a good rep with the people.”

Efi tapped her chin. “That… makes sense. By the way, what about Tracer?”

Lúcio and Hana frowned. “No idea, to be honest,” she replied reluctantly. “Winston’s been tearing his hair out.”

The twelve-year-old hummed. “Yeah, Dr Winston seemed pretty stressed when he explained the chronal accelerator to me. I sure hope the cool cyborg ninja dude gets back soon.”

“We all do,” Lúcio admitted, absently watching as Orisa finished off the last of the bots, cheerily trotting over to Efi.

“Was that a sufficient display of skill?” Orisa asked humbly as Efi gave her an adorable high five, jumping up to slap the robotic hand.

“Yep! Great job, Orisa! Did all your systems work properly? That pesky defence shield didn’t go on the fritz again, did it?” Efi rambled, admiring her Magnum Opus.

“No, Efi. Everything is fully operational, though my gun is having some minor accuracy issues.”

“Cool! I’m sure you’ll do great on a mission!”

“Attention, Agent Hana Song, Agent Lúcio Correia dos Santos, Agent Orisa, and Miss Efi. Winston has requested you come to the conference room within the next ten minutes.”

“What? I wonder what’s up.” Efi mused as she used a rag to clean off Orisa.

“Maybe it’s something about Tracer!” D.va hoped, mindlessly checking her phone clock. “We should probably get over there.”

“Can I have just a minute? It’ll only take a sec to tighten the screws on Orisa’s gun. It seemed a bit loose,” Efi begged, grabbing a screwdriver as Orisa let the little girl repair her weapon.

“Sure, sure. Say, Lú, do you think we’ll be going on that mission if we do have to rescue Tracer?” Hana chatted as the DJ leant against the wall to wait for Efi.

“Hope so. Though, if it’s a stealth mission, we probably shouldn’t.”

“Screw a stealth mission. I’ll burn that place down with my bare hands,” Hana half joked.

“It’s probably underground, you know.”

She snorted. “Tell that to the cowboy and cyborg.”

Lúcio paused melodramatically. “Dear God. Talon’s underground base _will_ be razed to the ground if they’re there.”

“I’m betting money they will be. They seemed close to Lena, based on how they’ve been acting about all this.”

“This just bites,” Lúcio admitted. “I saw her when she came to save me. She seemed so… I don’t even know. She was panicking about her harness thingy, and when she had me turn it off so she could get through the door… If Talon knows how to use that and manipulate that…” he trailed off, looking away.

“What did happen? Specifically, I mean. Everyone’s been kinda vague to me about what that thingy does.”

“She became a ghost.”

Then the speakers blared a horrible static noise causing everyone to cover their ears instinctively. It was like nails on a chalkboard. Then it quieted down.

“What was that…?” Efi asked nervously, uncovering her ears.

“Look!” Hana ran over to the nearest HoloVid television, her friends following suit. Displayed on the screen was a purple sugar skull, flickering back and forth. It just remained there as a faint fuzz sound played over the speakers, Athena completely silenced.

“This isn’t… This isn’t normal.” Orisa croaked out, seemingly confused as she shuffled her four legs up and down. “My sensors and transmitters are receiving the same image. Whatever this is… it’s not just Overwatch receiving it.”

Hana checked her phone, quickly flicking through some text chats with her squads back at MEKA. After a few quick messages, she turned back to the anxious trio, who all stared at the purple skull on the screen. “Yeah, my squad just told me, and the general chats are freaking out too. All livestreams and HoloVids at MEKA are experiencing this too. They’re relatively secure as well. Lúcio?”

The man was already checking his phone. “This is worldwide. My public chat server is flipping out.”

Then voices started to speak, and images began to show, and the group wished they had looked away.

…

“Genji, you genius!” Winston applauded as the cyborg handed him the USB chip. “I should be able to decode this stuff in no time!”

Hanzo cleared his throat, gesturing to the computer Winston had brought into his hospital room, where Dr Ziegler was busy taking care of his arm. “That laptop should not be attached the Overwatch servers, in case there is a virus on it.”

Winston nodded, already plugging it in. “Of course. And I take it you’re Hanzo, yes? Genji’s brother? I’ll be honest, I was surprised to see you come here after… uh… everything that happened.”

If Hanzo was surprised, he didn’t show it. “I wish to atone for my mistakes, should Overwatch allow that. I need to make up for how I wronged my brother, and the Shimada clan must be brought down.”

Dr Ziegler hummed. “First, you must focus on recovery. Your arm will be ready in a little while. Then we can work on that.”

Winston typed as Genji spoke. “Brother, you need not atone for what you did. I have forgiven you.”

The bow-wielding ninja shook his head. “But I am not prepared to forgive myself until I have earned redemption.”

Genji scoffed. “So noble. Anyway, can we figure out where Lena is?”

“Yes, I’d say so! Genji, get Jesse. I suspect he’ll want to hear this. Go ahead and call everyone to the conference room.”

“Will do,” the cyborg nodded and ran out, having Athena issue a message to everyone.

“I’m going to go there as well. Please, join us when Hanzo is ready,” Winston nodded, taking the laptop with him as he shuffled out of the room.

The doctor continued wrapping Hanzo’s arm. “How much do you know about the current situation?” she asked with her eyes intent on not meeting Hanzo’s.

“I know that Tracer was captured and that Genji is very invested in saving her.”

“Ah, yes. He and Jesse became very close to her during his time here. It would be hard not to, given all they endured together.”

“Jesse is that loudmouth cowboy with a selection of choice words for me from when we first arrived, yes?”

Angela chuckled. “Yes. I apologise for that.”

“Do not. I deserve far more than his scorn,” Hanzo assured, gesturing for the doctor to continue.

“As I was saying,” Angela nervously continued, “The threesome supported each other in ways only people like them could.” The doctor smiled fondly. “They all have their demons, as do we all. Yet they made sure none of them needed to fight them alone. They became brothers and sister to each other.” Mercy’s movements hiccupped as she realised her poor word choice, and she gave Hanzo a frantic look. “Oh, my apologies! That was…” Hanzo cut her off, holding up his good arm.

“No, I appreciate you telling me. I am glad to hear people cared for him in ways I should have yet did not,” Hanzo earnestly replied, though he kept his expression carefully neutral. “And if this Tracer girl is really so important to him, please tell me if I can be of any assistance.”

“Right now, you need to heal,” the doctor commanded as she finished splinting his arm. “Now, do not use your bow until I allow it. Tomorrow, we will check on your healing progress.”

“Thank you, Doctor. I am in your debt.” Hanzo left the bed and bowed graciously.

“It is no problem. Just please try not to be injured again. Your brother has no sense of self-preservation,” Mercy joked. Hanzo snorted.

“I see he has not changed. Meanwhile, should we go to the conference room? I believe people are waiting there for us.”

“Yes, I believe we should. Winston would likely wish to prepare for departure as soon as possible.”

…

McCree was outside, smoking a cigar when Genji came. The sun had just reached its peak, and he was half tempted to belt out his catchphrase if only because he almost felt obligated. As soon as Genji sprinted out, however, he knew what was going on.

“We can find her,” Genji quickly said. “Get to the conference room.”

No more words needed to be exchanged as the two hurried to the debriefing room, where Winston had already set up his laptop, eagerly typing away. Morrison and Amari had already arrived, both sitting in the seats next to Winston. Dr Ziegler was next to Hanzo, who carefully avoided Jesse’s glare. Zenyatta was calmly hovering nearby rather than sitting, watching everyone passively. Symmetra was waiting with an expression of complete serenity. Reinhardt was wearing his armour as he stood by the wall, diligent and alert next to Fareeha. D.va, Lúcio, Efi, the Junkers, Torbörn, his Bastion project, and Mei were absent.

“So? Fess up. Where the Hell is Lena?” McCree demanded as he entered, Genji close behind. He rolled the cigar in his fingers. “I’m fixin’ to take down Talon with my own two hands. I don’t even need Peacekeeper.”

Winston hummed eagerly. “Once everyone gets here, we’ll form teams and leave by sundown! I should have this code cracked quickly!”

Then the speakers screeched. It was a horrible, grinding noise. Genji and Zenyatta stiffened. McCree flinched, Mei, Pharah, Reinhardt, Ana, Mercy, and Winston all covered their ears. Soldier 76 kneeled over in pain, shaking as he desperately covered his ears from the horrible screech. Symmetra had a similar reaction.

When it finally died down, Ana rushed over to Jack’s side and helped him up. He was shaking. McCree absently remembered that his vision was damaged, and that must have made his body improve his already excellent hearing. Mei worked to console a hyperventilating Satya.

“Something is interfering with my transmitters…” Genji croaked, rubbing his metallic head.

“Mine as well,” Zenyatta admitted; his tranquil voice momentarily broken.

“What… what was that?” Symmetra shakily asked, her voice stressed as Mei finally calmed her down.

“The HoloVid!” McCree almost shouted, gesturing to the presentation HoloVid behind Winston. A purple skull began flickering back and forth on the screen. Genji and Zenyatta barely moved. Pharah and Reinhardt were immediately on guard, and Morrison still seemed disoriented as Ana flicked her head between the screen and Jack.

Mercy gave Genji a concerned glance. “Genji, you say you two are receiving this as well?”

“Yes…” Genji muttered, his voice strained. “It’s in my head. The image is in my head.”

Then someone on the screen began to speak.

 _“_ Hola _, everybody. Sombra here. My buddy Reaper had a message for the world. More specifically, Overwatch. I’d be all ears if I were you.”_

_Then the skull disappeared, and in its place the Talon agent known as Reaper appeared, leaning against a wall with two objects in hand. One was a spray bottle of some kind, and another was a remote control._

_“Hello there. So, word’s gotten around that Overwatch is back. Let me ask you something if you don’t mind. Why did they come back? You think they can change the world? Let me tell you, they can’t. They cannot even save their own agents. What makes you think they’ll save the planet?”_

_Then the ghost of a man pressed a button and opened a door._ _“You really think an Overwatch agent or two can stop what is meant to happen? Look at how quickly they are reduced to nothing!” The camera panned into the room._

“No…” somebody muttered. McCree didn’t know who. He didn’t care. Lena. He saw Lena. He saw what she’s been going through. McCree thought Blackwatch was bad when interrogating, but this was just a completely different level.

_On the ground, compacted into a tiny, shivering ball was Lena, as she faced away from Reaper, likely unconscious. She didn’t have her harness but seemed to be manually stabilised by odd machines in the room._

_“Get up, my pet,” Reaper ordered, pressing a button on the remote. Lena gasped and coughed as a distinct crackling noise played through the speakers. She convulsed back and forth for a split second, before scrambling to some sort of sitting position, gasping. She tried to stand, but then screamed. It was horrible, as she fell back to the ground, finally facing the camera and grabbing her right thigh, just above her-_

“Oh my **God!** ” Angela cried, aghast as everyone stared in horror at the sight in front of them.

.

“What the Hell?” Lúcio cried as he watched the screen in front of them. _Lena’s **leg.** Her **knee.** It was completely broken, twisted and distorted as bones poked and jutted out at painfully wrong angles. The skin was black and blue, and the entire knee was bent **forward,** almost a complete ninety degrees in the **opposite direction**._

Efi whimpered and took a staggering step back, Orisa already reaching out to support her, though her movements were stiff and odd. She reached her hand out and placed it over Efi’s eyes as the child cried in protest, pulling the robot’s hand away. “This is… this is so wrong…” she cried, leaning on the Omnic’s leg.

Hana stared ahead, transfixed by the horrific image as she gaped stared in awed mortification.

 _“Sit up,” Reaper ordered, threatening to press the button again. Somehow, the camera picked up on Lena’s rasping breath as she forced herself upward, though her damaged, blackened leg didn’t move in the slightest. Instead, it bent, cracked, and distorted itself further as tears began leaking down Lena’s_ _face. She finally faced the camera in full. Her eyes were wild and afraid, like a feral animal that had been cornered. She looked as though she had not been properly fed, with her cheeks sinking inward. Dehydration and exhaustion were evident in the bags below her eyes. Her once-spiky hair was matted and tangled, a layer of grime, blood, and grease coating it. Her jacket’s zipper was broken, one sleeve sagging below her shoulder, revealing a tattered and charred sports bra. Her skin was bright red and burned, and movement looked painful. Clamped on neck was-_

.

“Is that a… collar…? Hanzo asked with no small sense of trepidation.

“They’re everywhere…” Fareeha muttered, as gun clattered to the ground, slipping from her weak grasp. “Her arms, legs, and torso. They’re all cuffed, along with the shock collar,” her voice changed to a despondent deadpan as she gave her assessment.

 **“GET IT OUT. GET IT OUT OF MY HEAD!”** Genji pleaded, falling to the ground as he clutched his helmet, yanking off his visor with his eyes squeezed shut. It didn’t seem to help.

_Reaper laughed darkly as Lena shuffled away from him. “Meet your precious Tracer. Icon of Overwatch. And soon, Talon’s latest agent.”_

_Lena looked frantically to the camera, her pleading eyes searching for hope. “G-Genji! Jesse! Back there! I’m sorry- **AAAAAAAAGGHH!** ” Her voice was raspy and broken, and the scream was ragged, breaking into coughs as she cried out in agony. Another cracking sound filled the room as she fell to the ground convulsing as she wailed, harsh and grating as she clawed at her neck._

**“GET IT OUT OF MY HEAD GET IT OUT OF MY HEAD!** Get it out…! Please…”  Genji whimpered, shivering despite his robotic body.

McCree roared, slamming his metal fist against the wall, leaving a sizable dent as everyone watched the video.

.

_“You know not to speak out of turn, Pet! Now! The safe zones! You will crawl to them! If you disappear, you know what happens!” Reaper ordered, fiddling with the remote as Lena lied on the floor, gasping._

_Then she started to flicker, her form seeming to jump back and forth, as though she were a glitching image on television. She became transparent. She did not move. Reaper roared._

_“I SAID MOVE!” He stomped over to her, holding out the spray bottle as some green liquid shot from it, slathering itself over Lena’s cheek. She shrieked in agony, clawing at her face, only for her hands to turn a brighter shade of red with her cheek as her hoarse scream became a pleading whimper._

_“Acid. I will recall you when you obey. Now move.”_

_Lena didn’t hesitate, whipping her head around with wild unfocused eyes until she settled on one of the strange machines in the wall. It was pathetic, and her bad leg dragged behind her, the cuff grinding on the ground as she scuttled over to one of the devices as she continued to almost flicker. Lena collapsed on the metal floor in a trembling ball as she reached the wall. Blue light coated her body, and her pathetic movements played in reverse as she wound up in front of Reaper in a shaking ball._

_“Now, my pet. I must show how well-trained you are. If you disobey, you get scolded. You should know that’s how it works,” Reaper chastised like a child getting scolded for minor misbehaviour._

_Tracer sat up, her arms shaking under the strain of her underfed body that still was almost too much for her to bear._

Efi whimpered. “He’s treating her like an animal! She’s a person! Why would anybody treat a person like that? Who would ever do something so horrible?” tears trailed down her eyes.

Lúcio nodded slowly. “This is just… this is just so wrong. Pet? A collar? A god-forsaken spray bottle? What the hell…” his voice trailed off into a whisper near the end. Hana clenched her hands into fists. She’s seen plenty on Tracer before. This pathetic, whimpering creature on the camera was **not Tracer.** It was a horrible being who’s only companion was fear, all joy twisted and forced away from her as the pain became the only thing she knew. It wasn’t just inhumane. It was downright monstrous.

.

_“Now, my pet. Do it again,” Reaper ordered as he pressed another button. Tracer kept her head ducked down as she clawed her way over to another one of the stabilisers, dragging her leg behind her, which looked about ready to fall off. As soon as she fell limply against the wall, the cuff on her torso biting into her awkwardly bent back, as she stopped flickering, her form immediately destabilised again. She refused to look at anything except the floor as she pulled herself to another one of the devices in twenty seconds of pathetic struggling as her pleading whimpers bounced off the walls._

Junkrat watched from his room in confusion, an unfinished bomb lying in front of him with a screwdriver sticking out. Roadhog watched passively from behind.

“I don’t get it,” he admitted to his bodyguard. “I mean, we make bombs to kill people and such, and that’s all well and good, but what’s the point of doing this? He ain’t tryin’ to kill her off. If he wanted her dead, he could probably kill her in no time flat. She ain’t even fighting back. What’s the point of hurting her like this? It’d be so much easier to kill her instead. At least bombs are fast, y’know? Drawing it out is so pointless,” the charred man mused.

“Yes,” Roadhog agreed from behind as Junkrat half-heartedly continued on his bomb while watching.

.

_It could’ve been no more than a minute until Tracer was done. Halfway to another stabiliser, her arms gave out from under her as she hit the ground with a haphazard thud. She awkwardly pinned one of her arms under her torso as she began to cough and sputter, blood splattering against the floor as Lena hacked and choked for several seconds until she was reduced to no more than a wheezing mess. Her form continued to flicker until it finally vanished in its entirety. Reaper calmly hit a button on the remote as the girl reappeared in front of his feet, shivering and desperate._

_“Is that all you have?” he menacingly demanded, holding out the bottle threateningly. Tracer flinched away and tried to heave herself back up, making it no more than a few inches before Lena fell back down into a fit of coughing as she retched, though only blood sputtered past her lips. Reaper kneeled down in front of her. “You really are running low on strength. You know you could give up at any time.”_

_Tracer only glared, leaning as far away as she could get. “What’s this? No witty comeback this time? You know it too, then. There really is no point in fighting. And yet, you’re going to, huh? Vainly hoping for some hero that will never come. What’s that saying? The world could always use more heroes?” Reaper turned to the camera. “I guess that phrase is accurate. After all, not even one of Overwatch’s most prized agents has gotten one. If she doesn’t get a hero to save her from the clutches of Talon, what makes you think the rest of the world will, too? Sleep on that.”_

_Tracer stared at the ground as she stirred over Reaper’s words, the betrayal all too evident in her eyes. Any glimmer of hope she had seemed to fade away. Whatever light was in her eyes vanished, leaving an empty void of hopelessness as she finally flopped onto the ground with a pitiful moan. The transmission ended._

The room was silent enough to hear a pin drop. Nobody knew what to say. Reinhardt piped up. “ **GABRIEL YOU TRAITOR! I’LL KILL YOU!** ” That drew heads from those who recognised the name.

“G-Gabriel…?” Winston asked, as though he needed confirmation.

“Apparently,” Reinhardt snarled, “Our ‘buddy’ survived the explosion, and now look at what he’s doing!”

Mercy left the room with only a few words. “I’m going to get my Caduceus staff.”

“Reyes? That was Reyes?” McCree asked, his voice quiet and cold. “Gabriel did this?”

“The traitor!” Reinhardt repeated, clenching his hands into fists. Genji was on the floor in a shivering heap, as Zenyatta lay a hand on his pupil’s shoulder.

“This is barbaric,” Symmetra said plainly. “How will we go about this?”

“We are going to storm Talon, and take Tracer back. I will murder anyone who gets in my way.” McCree swore, his slow, deliberate words masking his accent entirely. “Call us when we’re leaving. We **will** be going on that mission.” Brushing Zenyatta’s hand off Genji’s shoulder, he helped his friend up as the two hobbled out of the room.

As the two left, a new group rushed in.

“What the hell was that?” Lúcio demanded as he placed his hand firmly on the shoulder of the shivering child, who was holding onto Orisa from atop her back like it was a lifeline. Hana remained carefully silent, biting her lip as she shivered from outrage.

“W-we’re going to pack up for the rescue mission,” Winston muttered as his voice hitched. “Th-the location. I’ll have it within a few minutes. We’re not going to be subtle about this.”

“What do you recommend?” Soldier 76 asked in a carefully flat voice.

“We’re going to storm the place. Orisa, Pharah, Reinhardt, Commander Morrison, and Captain Amari will all be on the frontal assault to find Lena. They’ll make as much noise as possible. Meanwhile, McCree, Genji, Mercy, and D.va, for a bit of added defence, will be a bit quieter about their approach unless needed to change that plan. You’ll all be searching for Lena as well while the primary team is the distraction. While this is going on, Symmetra, Lúcio, and the Junkers will be travelling elsewhere to rig the base to explode when we are ready to leave. Symmetra will have a teleporter prepared when the teams reunite. Zenyatta, Hanzo, Torbörn, Efi, Mei, and I will be sure to monitor everyone and have medical supplies ready.”

Lúcio and Symmetra exchanged half-hearted glares with each other. Everybody else nodded.

“Alright, everybody. Suit up and meet in the hangar in fifteen minutes. It’s time we save Lena.”

…

McCree roared again in a sheer, animalistic rage as he and Genji looked out at the ocean ahead of them.

“Reyes! I trusted him! He was a mentor! But he turns and stabs us in the back like this? The traitor! He hurt Lena! **He’s hurting Lena!** ”

Genji had clicked his visor back into place, finally having calmed down after the horrific experience. “The Shimada Clan and Blackwatch can’t hold a candle to that disgusting behaviour. We’ll kill him. We’ll kill Reyes ourselves,” Genji promised, running his finger over the fuller of his blade.

“It wasn’t even how he hurt her body,” McCree mourned as he sat down on the cliffs side, ignoring the rocks poking him. “He wasn’t just trying to hurt her physically. He was killin’ her emotionally.”

Genji nodded sadly. “Pet. That’s what he called her. He was treating her like an animal. She probably felt like one, too.”

“Well, shoot, anyone would after a few days of that…”

“She’s still fighting, though… she hasn’t given up yet.”

McCree winced. “You’re wrong. You saw her eyes. She was fightin’ because she felt like she had to, with whatever stubbornness she can muster. Not because she thought she’d be rescued. She’s startin’ to give up. She’s out of hope.”

“But she is still fighting,” Genji assured. “She’s not surrendered. No matter why she’s fighting. The point is that she still is.”

“Genji… I know that look. I’ve seen it everywhere. Deadlock, Blackwatch, doesn’t matter. You can’t keep up the fighting without hope.”

“Then let’s hurry up and give her hope. I can’t stand seeing her like that. It’s that God-forsaken chamber all over again.”

McCree sighed and got back up. “Alright then. Let’s go, then. Talon messed with the wrong group.”

“With our family,” Genji agreed.

The two brothers, united by their struggles, headed to the hangar. It was time to save their sister.


	19. Choice

OWLT 19- Choice

“Alright, Gabe. Most of the base has evacuated,” Sombra reported. “The only people left include Widowmaker, you, myself, some doctors, Doomfist, and obviously, Tracer is here as well.” Sombra calmly brushed her hair back as Reaper prepared one of his guns.

“Good. And you brought what I wanted?”

Sombra rolled her eyes. “Ugh, of course, I did, Gabe.” She tossed the ghost a small device. It was dark purple, with four pointed ends, much like spider legs. Altogether, it looked similar to the instrument Reaper had used to stabilise Lena when he needed to bring her to the Pit. “The toy is ready to go. You can activate the Toy with that remote you’ve been using.”

“Perfect. And how’s development on the other items?”

“Well, I finished up the chronal accelerator; its battery should last way longer now, and I changed the type of charger it needs, so she can’t just run back to Overwatch, even if she wanted to. It’s on the evacuation ship. The sympathiser-thingamawhatsit you wanted is there too, but not finished yet. It’s a pretty easy build, though. I got all the things I’ve been tinkering with for the last project on board, too,” Sombra listed, counting off the devices on her fingers.

“Perfect.”

“And are you sure only us four are enough to fight off the twenty-something people coming for all of our heads?” she asked sceptically.

“You know the plan. Doomfist and Widowmaker will hold whatever team they lead with, while you and I guard our prisoner.”

“I mean, we can just leave with her and _not_ need to fight Overwatch,” Sombra wisecracked, brushing her hand over the gun on her holster.

“That’s not the point. We’re here to hurt Overwatch as much as possible. Not to mention you wanted me to stop damaging the pet’s body.”

“This isn’t- you know what? Whatever. Are we gonna, like, give her some water or something to make sure she doesn’t roll over dead or are we trying to make a scene?”

“You’re going to sneak her some water regardless of what I say. Feel free,” Reaper allowed with disinterest.

“Alright then. I’ll meet you at the front of the hallway or whatever when the alarms start going off.”

Reaper nodded as Sombra moved to the kitchen and grabbed some water for Lena. At the last minute, she decided on getting her some chocolate as well. As she walked out with her items in hand, she yelped in surprise as she was confronted by Widowmaker.

“My apologies for startling you,” Widowmaker expressed in monotone.

“Ohhhh, heya, Amélie. Looking forward to the attack? You seem as excited as always.”

“Is that for Tracer?” the assassin asked, ignoring Sombra’s question as she gestured to the candy and water.

Sombra rolled her eyes. “Look, I know it may be an unfamiliar thing to you, but I actually do somewhat care about her. I don’t want to work with someone who’s halfway to the grave.”

Widowmaker snorted. “It’s been five days. Five days of a complete, genuine attempt to convert her, unlike Amari’s child.”

“Great job, the spider can count!” Sombra quipped, rolling her eyes as Widowmaker followed her to the cell. “But what’s that have to do with the price of tea in China?”

“Excuse me?” Widowmaker cocked an eyebrow.

“You’ve never heard that expression? You know what, never mind. What’s five days have to do with anything?”

“I only lasted four.”

“Ohhhhh,” Sombra commented awkwardly. “Soooo what’s that have to do with anything?”

“It’s respectable, though I get the feeling respect is an unfamiliar concept,” Widowmaker retorted snidely.

“Gotcha, gotcha. You planning on showing that regard or just hiding it under your sparkling personality?” Sombra asked, interested.

“That is not your concern. Now, give this to Lena as well,” Sombra blinked in surprise as Widowmaker handed Sombra one of the small pouches with apple sauce in them, meant to drink from with a straw on the top. Sombra didn’t even know Talon had applesauce. Though, picturing Reaper going grocery shopping and getting animal cookies and apple sauce was a fun mental image.

“Uh, thanks?” Sombra quirked her head. “She… she’ll need all the nourishment she can get. I’ll be sure to get this to her.”

Widowmaker nodded, her expression still blank. “Now, mention any of this to Reaper, and I’ll make sure he knows you didn’t include the kill switch on the harness,” Widowmaker added, making Sombra smirk, slightly impressed.

“Ooh, blackmailing me, huh? Sure, whatever. Mum’s the word. Gabe won’t know you’re spinning yet another web.” Sombra made the motion of zipping her lips and throwing away a key as the assassin rolled her eyes, and proceeded to meet up with Doomfist.

Sombra grabbed the remote when she finally reached Tracer’s door, mentally preparing herself for what lay inside.

Tracer did not react to Sombra’s entry, and seemed to be unconscious again, exhausted after the strain the video from a few hours ago had put on her. Sleeping seemed to be all she did when Reaper didn’t inflict intense pain on her. Sombra’s hand instinctively covered her nose as burnt flesh, blood, and decay assaulted her senses.

Lena awoke with a start as Sombra gently tapped her shoulder. She jolted upright and scurried several inches back, watching Sombra with wide eyes.

“ _Relajate, chica._ ” Sombra tried to comfort, pulling her hand back. “I just brought you some things.” Lena watched warily as Sombra pulled out the water bottle, opening the lid for her. “Come on, Gabe isn’t the nicest guy, but I’d really prefer you not die on us.” She sat down next to the girl on the floor, making Lena flinch.

Lena slowly extended her hand for the bottle, as though expecting repercussions. Sombra let her grab it, though her shivering hand was nowhere near steady enough to hold it up. Sombra let Lena guide the bottle to her lips while keeping a firm hold. The poor girl took a tentative sip as Sombra gently pulled the bottle away.

Sombra noticed as Lena swallowed, it was strained as she struggled with the collar on her neck. “Oh, sorry about that. Here.” Sombra quickly pressed a few buttons on the remote as the collar came loose. Fresh blood began to flow as Sombra pulled it away, the skin peeling off and sticking to the piece of metal as Tracer whimpered pathetically. Sombra couldn’t tell if it hurt or if she was afraid.

Then, Lena took huge, gulping breaths for air, wheezing as she could finally breathe properly again.

“Ew. This is just disgusting,” Sombra commented as she helped Lena drink some more. “Just so you know, me and Widowmaker are so not on board with this.”

Tracer wrinkled her brow, as though confused by this.

Sombra sighed. “This is all Gabe. Honestly, Widowmaker respects you for putting up a fight this long. And I, personally, just think this is barbaric and dumb,” she admitted. Tracer’s slow sips became heaping gulps, though the shivering and shaking had yet to end.

Lena watched silently as Sombra took back the water bottle. “You know you can talk to me right now, right?” The girl’s eyes flitted to the ground, then to Sombra, unsure.

“Why… why are you so nice to me?” she croaked out, her rough voice barely above a whisper.

“I already told you. I’m not a fan of this whole ’torture and brainwash’ thing Gabe’s got going. I thought I’d give you a little break.”

“And… what have you been doing with my chronal accelerator?” Sombra rolled her eyes.

“I fixed it up. Extended the battery life. Little things. I used the tech to make a few things, but the harness itself is A-Okay,” Sombra offered. “And I swear I didn’t rig this one,” she added at Tracer’s sceptical and nervous glance. “Anyway, tell me, _Chica._ How long do you plan to keep on fighting? This could all be over if you just gave up.” Sombra gently unwrapped the candy bar and handed it to the girl.

Tracer just shrugged without conviction, slowly taking a bite of the candy. “I don’t really have a choice in anything…” she mumbled, even though it was somewhat off-topic. “That video… the whole world saw it?”

Sombra nodded. “Oh, you know me. Hacking the globe. Just another day as Sombra.”

“So now everyone can know how I’m Talon’s little pet,” she snarled, staring at the ground.

“Come on; you’re taking that seriously?” Sombra half-joked, gently elbowing the prisoner. She recoiled as though struck by lightning.

Tracer looked genuinely confused. “Am I… Not supposed to take it seriously? Just look at me.” She gestured to her mangled neck, raw and bloody from the collar.

Sombra winced. “Okay, I think Gabe wants you to take it seriously, but,”

“If he wants me to take it seriously, then I guess that’s what matters, I’m supposed to do what he says…” Sombra growled at the girl’s defeated voice.

“Oh hush up,” Sombra ordered. She didn’t expect the girl to obey, yet she slammed her mouth shut, and her eyes hit the floor. “Just… here, drink this,” she took the candy wrapper from the shaking girl and handed her the apple sauce. “Let me look at your leg.”

Tracer slowly sipped the drink as Sombra loosened the cuff on her right leg. “Does that feel better?”

“Doesn’t feel like anything,” Tracer mumbled, looking away.

“You don’t have any feeling? Anywhere below your knee?” she asked with trepidation. Lena shook her head.

“The smell of decay is stronger here… I think gangrene is starting to occur or accumulate or whatever,” she slowly admitted, wrinkling her nose as the smell of death assaulted her senses. The skin was barely recognisable as flesh, blackened and rotting. The knee itself was no better, with the bones having twisted and contorted to the point where it was almost unrecognisable. Sombra took short breaths as she tightened the cuff back on. “I don’t see this healing all the way ever…”

“Crippled pet, he said…” Tracer recalled dejectedly between sips of the drink.

“Oh, quiet down. Don’t be like that,” Sombra rolled her eyes. Tracer immediately shut her mouth and looked away. “You really think Gabe would keep you around if we couldn’t find some way to fix you up? He’s really not into losing.”

Tracer just shrugged, finishing up the applesauce as Sombra took the pouch back.

“You feel any better?” Sombra asked. Tracer shrugged.

“ _Tomaré eso como un sí_.” Tracer didn’t react. Sombra sighed. “I’m gonna take that shrug as a yes,” she joked.

Tracer shrugged again. Sombra rolled her eyes. “Ugh! You can at least laugh at my jokes! I hope you’re not so much of a killjoy when we work together!” Lena recoiled, squeezing her eyes shut as she mumbled some sort of apology.

“You know, you make it hard to tease you.”

“Sorry.”

“Why are you sorry? Don’t apologise!”

“Sorry…”

“Ugh, stop being so… so… pathetic! You were way less snivel-ly when I hacked that jet!” Sombra realised something, forcing a smirk. “Yeah, I plunged you through time and space, it was all my fault! I’m the reason you’re here! It’s all because of me that you’re the freak you are! A freak on a lifeline with a battery! It’s all because of me!” Sombra took a deep breath. “So just be mad or something!”

Lena just shrugged.

“Ugh! Get mad at me!” Sombra slammed her fist on the wall, “Stop being so _passive!_ You’re a person too! So be mad at me! At Reaper! At someone! Something other than scared for once! I practically ruined your life, all for my selfish gain! And I don’t regret it either or anything! Is that not enough to get _any_ reaction out of you? Come _on!_ You were going to be one of the best pilots in the world! But thanks to me, all you can do now is fight! So how about you make yourself useful and do that! I won’t even fight back or anything! Just do… something! _¡Cabreate o algo!_ _”_ Sombra roared with her eyes squeezed shut.

Tracer shrugged, her eyelids beginning to close. “Tired… I’m so tired…” she admitted.

“You’re not dying on us, are you?” Sombra asked, getting nervous.

“I’ve felt dying… I wish I were feeling that now… I’m just tired.”

It had almost slipped Sombra’s mind that the girl dreamed without being stabilised. “ _¿Ves?_ More things you’ve experienced thanks to me!” Her heart wasn’t in it, though. It was evident Tracer just… wasn’t getting upset. It was worrying. If this was her state of mind now… would Reaper’s plans break her for good? Part of Sombra wanted to tell Tracer Overwatch was coming, just to give her some glimmer of hope. But, given what Reaper had planned, wouldn’t that just be crueller? Sombra kept quiet.

“Okay, _Chica_ , let me help you to the bed, at least. And I need to put the collar back on.” Tracer made no move to protest as Sombra clamped the collar around. “Jesus, this hurts me more than it hurts you to put this thing on. How the heck can you breathe with this on?”

Tracer shrugged.

“Okay, okay, let’s get you to the bed. Tell me if I begin to hurt you or something.” Sombra grabbed Tracer’s shoulder, tugging her upward. She pulled the right arm over her shoulder so Tracer wouldn’t have to move her bad leg.

Lena offered no resistance as the two hobbled over to the uncomfortable metal bench. Sombra winced as Lena’s bad leg made horrendous squishing and popping noises no matter how little it moved as Tracer did her best to keep it suspended above the floor, her eyes on the ground.

“Hey, when this is all over, drinks on me, okay?” Sombra added as she eased Tracer onto the bench.

Tracer shrugged.

…

Overwatch left in four different ships. In the one with the most technology and medical equipment, Winston, Efi, Hanzo, Torbjörn, Zenyatta, and Mei were setting up whatever they thought would be needed. Hanzo, Mei, and Zenyatta were prepared to give medical attention to anyone who needed it. Efi was on a laptop connected to the channel Junkrat, Roadhog, Lúcio, and Symmetra were on, despite wanting to watch Orisa.

“Winston, let me know if Orisa is having any malfunctions or something!” she had repeated over and over as she periodically checked the heart rate monitors of her group on the ship near them. She was ready to flip to a different channel for communication between the groups whenever needed.

Torbjörn was adamant about watching the main offensive team, which he had ensured his e54 Bastion unit would go on. Packed into that group was Orisa, Reinhardt, Soldier 76, and Ana. Pharah was to stay outside for cover fire should they need it.

Winston watched the final group of Genji, McCree, Mercy, and D.va. Every agent had heart rate monitors and cameras, which the group expertly cycled between.

Efi took a deep breath, turning to Winston nervously. “Are you sure you want me to do this? I don’t mind, but what if I mess up? What if…?”

Zenyatta put a hand on the child’s shoulder. “You will do well, child. Your group is not expected to encounter much resistance, but we need someone skilled to navigate them through the base. Efi gulped, eyes darting between Zenyatta’s serene form and Winston’s reassuring smile.

“Okay, if you say so…”

Torbjörn scoffed. “I’m not sure having the child monitor everything over the others we have here is wise,” he snarled, causing Efi to pull back a bit.

Mei shook her head. “I’m not great with all that fancy stuff! No way would I be able to efficiently press all the buttons and switch between screens and watch everyone at once!”

Hanzo chipped in as well. “And my arm is still wounded.”

Torbjörn grunted. “Then why not have the Omnic watch?”

“Because Miss Oladele is more well-suited for the job than I,” Zenyatta offered in a challenge to the cynical man.

Efi watched everyone with wide eyes, not sure what to think. She beamed. “Then if you believe that I can, I won’t let you down!” Efi adamantly checked the heart rate monitors and front and back cameras on each of her agents, making sure the communicators worked.

“Points for enthusiasm,” Torbjörn conceded, rolling his eyes as he moved to monitor his group, checking Bastion’s systems as well.

“Don’t worry Miss Oladele. You will do well,” Hanzo promised, sitting back in his chair.

Efi nodded and turned on her mic. “You guys ready for this?” she asked her group.

…

“To think I would need to work with a street ruffian like you,” Symmetra sneered as she flew the jet while Lúcio sat next to her on the bench of small aircraft while Junkrat and Roadhog watched, puzzled.

“Look, neither of us are happy about this, but you saw the video. I think we can both agree that we need to end this,” Lúcio sighed unhappily. “Doesn’t mean we have to enjoy it, but we have to do it.”

“You could at least go on the mission without your stolen technology.”

Lúcio snorted. “You’re one to talk.”

“So what are we doin’?” Junkrat asked in confusion. “We brought a bunch of stuff, so just name it!”

“We are rigging the base to explode when the mission is done,” Symmetra recited blankly. “The ruffian is here to use his stolen technology to boost our speed, and I am here to work through any defence systems we encounter, along with having teleporters prepared to back us out.”

Junkrat’s eyes practically sparkled. “How big a place we lookin’ to blow?”

“Enormous,” Lúcio replied warily. “Any idea how we could blow up that whole place?”

“Find the spot where they make the power! Maybe a science lab with some explosive-y stuff! We can level this place to the ground no problem!” he cheered as Roadhog watched passively.

“So uh, why we blowin’ this place up?”

“Surely you saw the video,” Symmetra scolded, straightening her dress as she flew. “Talon was utterly barbaric towards that girl, and we aim to her.”

“Oh, now it’s barbaric,” Lúcio sneered.

“Any treatment like that is horrendous,” Symmetra reaffirmed. “I would never support such a thing.”

Lúcio snorted. “For once we agree on something. But maybe you should ask your boss what he does with prisoners.”

“Oi, if you two are done arguing,” Junkrat butt in, “Couldja help me with these explosives?”

Lúcio rolled his eyes. “We’ll talk later, Vishkar.”

…

Despite the large group, the crowded jet was extremely quiet. Orisa was sitting on the ground, her arms crossed over her equine legs. Reinhardt glared at the floor of the jet as Morrison and Amari sat next to him with neutral expressions. The bastion unit Torbjörn had repaired sat down in the middle of the ship, occasionally whirring or chirping in anticipation. Pharah flew the jet with her rocket launcher and helmet nearby.

“Are we certain this Bastion unit is safe to be around?” Reinhardt asked warily through the comm.

“Of course it is!” Torbjörn retorted in frustration. “I made sure it could recognise friend from foe, and I removed its programming that made it thirst for human blood and whatnot.”

“Nicely done,” Jack complimented, leaning back.

“Thanks, _Commander_ ,” Torbjörn grunted.

“Don’t call me that,” he stated plainly. “That man died long ago.”

Ana rolled her eyes next to him. “Jack’s really got the edgy old man thing down.”

Jack shot his partner an annoyed glance, despite the visor.

“Excuse me, Soldier 76,” Orisa interrupted, drawing everyone’s attention. “Why do you wear that visor outside of combat, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Ana shot the soldier next to her and amused glance at his wrinkled forehead. “My vision is impaired,” he answered plainly.

Fareeha piped up from the cockpit. “Is that why you reacted as you did in the conference room? Your hearing might have been enhanced from that.”

And smirked. “You can’t see it, but he’s rolling his eyes from behind the mask.”

Jack sighed and rubbed his temple. “I apologise for my lack of grace back there, but nobody there was the pinnacle of serenity there either, if memory serves.”

Reinhardt sighed. “I still can’t believe Gabriel would do this. I thought he quite liked Tracer. We all did, really. Hard not to appreciate an idealist in a world of pessimists.”

“Gabe never was the sentimental type,” Jack mused. “Not to mention he was Blackwatch’s number one interrogator.”

“Why let an interrogator perform reforming torture, then?” Reinhardt asked through grit teeth.

Jack sighed. “To hurt us as much as possible.”

Ana winced. “Given everyone’s reactions, I’d say it’s working too.”

…

D.va hummed nervously as she checked her mech’s systems for the umpteenth time, sitting back down once she realised there was nothing left to fix. She felt everyone’s gaze on her as she did so.

“Miss Song, do you have any plans regarding stealth with that?” Genji asked sceptically.

Hana chuckled and shook her head. “No, I’m not sure why Winston put me on the stealth team, to be honest.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t call it a ‘stealth’ team, given the spurs, glowing wings, and bubble-gum pink mech,” Angela joked from the cockpit. “I believe the ‘not-quite-as-loud-team’ would be more accurate.”

McCree sighed, his voice discouraged. “Plus, we can likely find some way to carry Lena out on that. I doubt she’ll be walkin’ much after what we saw.” Everybody winced.

“She said she was… sorry.” Genji mused, his voice just as low. “Even after everything, she was sorry about what happened in Gibraltar. If that doesn’t prove that wasn’t her talking to us that day, then I don’t know what does.”

“Before Reyes up and electrocuted her,” Jesse snarled, clenching his fist. “All for not crawlin’ around like an animal to… safe zones.”

Genji remained still, his expression hidden behind his mask. “Safe zones, shrunken areas in which she could be stable.”

“This train of thought does nothing but cloud our judgement,” Mercy fiddled with her staff as everybody stared at the ground.

“Hana, you say that video went viral?” Genji asked with a sense of trepidation. “What are the news outlets looking like?”

Hana hummed, pulling out her phone. “At a glance? Not spectacular. A lot of chaos all around, people wondering if it was staged, if Tracer joined Talon, things like that.”

“Ugh, just when we were starting to get some positive PR, too,” Genji grunted. “It’ll be back to square one all over again.”

Hana shook her head. “If anything, Lúcio and I will work on keeping you guys going strong, however we can! We have the public influence, and we’ll use it!” she comforted as she settled down with her phone back in her pocket. Probably not the safest place to put it before a mission, but whatever.

…

The groups landed only a few feet from each other at different times as everyone took a position. The main group went into the rubble immediately. They were in Switzerland.

“This is where their hideout is?” Genji asked Winston sceptically over the comm. This location…

“No way…” Mercy mumbled as she checked the location on the HoloVid in their jet.

“It’s the ruins of the Swiss base…” McCree mumbled. “You know, to add insult to injury.”

“Yes, this is the spot,” Winston admitted over their mics. “The first team has gone in ten minutes ago.” The base was in shambles, white and blue stones and metal jutted out dangerously for miles, the floor tattered and ruined with grass and moss growing over the old headquarters.

“Did this place have, like, and underground facility to it?”

McCree nodded. “Sure did, but it’d be in shambles too. Guess they must’ve refurbished it and whatnot. Given it a fresh coat of paint,” he sneered. “On the bright side, I know where the prisoner hold is. I’m a tad too familiar with it. We can get there no problem.”

Pharah was outside, on the remains of what must have been the communication tower, propped on the unsteady rubble as she saluted them from above, watching diligently.

“We clear to go, Winston?” Hana asked, remotely turning on her mech with her wristband as she sat back and waited for the go-ahead.

“Hang on, I’ll give the word. McCree, Genji, you know how to get to the underground portions, right?”

“Well, duh, but they must’ve done some expandin’ or somethin’ McCree mused. “I’d guess they kept the prisoner section the same though, given there weren’t exactly the most hospitable places.” He took a deep breath. “Hana, mind showin’ me the video again? You said it’s all over the Internet.”

Hana winced. “I mean, sure… Let me find it.” A few seconds later, she had the uncut video downloaded onto her phone as she tossed it to McCree, the screen frozen on the camera’s first pan into the room with Tracer curled up on the floor.

McCree watched a few seconds and shoved the phone back into Hana’s hands, looking away, his face pale. “Ugh, yep, that’s the prison bay. Room in the back. Blocked by a fingerprint scanner. We’ll have to bust the door down.”

“So much for subtlety,” Hana joked nervously. “Now to just wait for the go ahead…”

“Let’s hope the crew’s doin’ alright.”

…

Reinhardt and Orisa led the way as the group picked through the rubble to reach the entrance to the underground part of the facility. The entrance was a staircase veiled under a thick mess of debris, though it “conveniently” opened up in a small archway of unsteady rocks piled against each other to leave a small gap for entry while still allowing the rubble to look natural.

Orisa and Bastion moved away the debris with ease, revealing the dusty staircase that wound deep into the ground.

Orisa and Bastion were the first to go down, Bastion whirring merrily as everyone followed.

“I cannot believe Talon would repurpose the Swiss headquarters like this…” Reinhardt mused.

“Wouldn’t put it past Reyes,” Soldier 76 deadpanned. “The guy has a pretty up there position in Talon, along with being a top agent.”

“So when do we get to blow things up?” Junkrat asked from the back as everyone worked their way down the stairs.

“Do not set off the timer until Efi tells you, please,” Ana informed him. “Otherwise you’ll blow us all up with the base.”

“Aw.” The man whined, stumbling down the stairs clumsily.

“Remember,” Efi chirped through the second group's communicators. “Split off from the main group right away when you are able! I’ll try to guide you where I can!”

…

Doomfist cracked his knuckles. “They’re here.” He turned to Widowmaker, who was standing calmly next to him. “Are you ready?”

“Always,” she answered smoothly. In the large room, she did not have very many grappling spots, but she could still dispatch enemies with ease if she saw fit. The distant sounds of approaching enemies could be heard echoing through the metal walls of the otherwise silent base.

Widowmaker activated the Widow’s kiss and scoped in on the hallways. Footsteps echoed through the halls as the ground quaked. “Remember the plan. We are to buy time,” Doomfist ordered.

The blue-skinned assassin sighed. “I am aware.”

Finally, A bright blue shield rounded the corner, with a crusader in giant armour being the one to carry it, his face hidden behind his helmet.

“And so it begins,” Doomfist smirked, charging the crusader with his gauntlet outstretched.

...

“This is so weird…” Efi commented as she watched her group trek through the many halls and corridors of the underground base, leading them as best she could. “I’d have expected way more people by now, or anyone for that matter.”

“They likely evacuated the majority of the base,” Symmetra offered as the group rushed through the many halls, ignoring the sounds of conflict echoing in the distance.

The group rounded a corner, revealing the door that was locked behind a fingerprint scanner. It was labelled “Database.”

“Yo Vishkar, can you open that?” Lúcio grunted, sliding back on his skates.

Satya rolled her eyes. “Of course I can.” She kneeled down. “However, could you please help me take off the panel?” she requested, turning to Roadhog. The giant of a man hobbled over, pulling off the

“I don’t get it,” Junkrat whined. “Why can’t this place have one of those fancy schmancy maps that malls have that tells us where they keep the generators?”

“Because those that work here should be familiar with the layout,” Symmetra retorted in a tired voice as she began to fiddle with the wiring. “Otherwise they do not deserve to be employed here.”

“I’d say if they’re willing to work for Talon, this is _exactly_ where those scums should work,” Lúcio sneered.

Efi chipped in from the communicator. “Y’know, I doubt everybody that works here agrees with the whole “capture and torture thing.” Didn’t Overwatch do that too, when they needed to interrogate people?”

“That was different. They needed information. Overwatch didn’t just do what we saw,” Lúcio argued as Symmetra worked, his blaster out and prepared.

“Well, we’re all new here. We don’t know that. Besides, torture is kinda by definition, morally grey. I’m not trying to justify what Talon did, but if it’s an “ends justify the means” mind set, and Overwatch uses it too, who are we to assume we’re better than them?”

“But we haven’t done that, at least as long as I’ve been here!” Lúcio snapped. “Besides, I think there is a liiiiittle difference between capturing a terrorist to stop their wicked plans, and getting some info out of them, versus emotionally and physically abusing someone until any semblance of their old self is gone!” Lúcio practically shouted.

“They tortured Tracer, and they’re definitely being more brutal about it here, but Overwatch **did** torture people too. There’s no way that kind of pain is okay for one group to do it but not another. It’s not right on either front, but it might not be wrong either. It all just depends. We can’t hold our heads higher than people whose levels we have stooped to,” Efi pressed. “Not to mention, didn’t Vishkar torture you too, to a degree? You’d say that’s any righter than what Talon does?”

That got Symmetra’s attention. “Pardon me?” She raised her brow at the DJ.

Lúcio waved it off. “Just… never mind. Look, we’ll talk later. And Efi?”

“Yeah?”

“You sure you’re just twelve?”

“I’m technically twelve and three-quarters.”

“Ah, that explains it. You’ve got a good head, kid,” Lúcio beamed and turned back to Satya, who seemed hyper-focused on the lock. “How we doing here, Vishkar?”

As if on cue, the door opened. “It is done. Come, let us find out our next destination.”

…

Reinhardt dug his feet into the ground as he fought with Doomfist for leverage, the rest of the group running in behind him as two very familiar soldiers joined the fight against her boss.

“Widowmaker, take care of the Omnics!”

“As you wish.” The sniper pointed her scope at the head of the Bastion, intent on taking him out before he could shift into turret mode. Unfortunately, the OR15 seemed to project a barrier, shielding the bastion as he clicked and clanged into the form of a turret. Widowmaker hurried behind the cover of the crusader and Doomfist fighting as the Bastion whirred uncertainly, ceasing his fire.

Widowmaker took the opportunity to shoot her grappling hook over to the Bastion as it pierced the shield, pulling her up to the robot as she charged her gun. The gunshot cracked through the small corridors as the e54’s turret gun began to spark and jam as the robot shifted back into his recon mode, chirping in alarm. The bullet had lodged itself directly in the rotating barrel and would make firing anything dangerous and foolish.

Widowmaker rolled away from the OR15 that attempted to smack her with the gun on her arm, used her grappling hook to attach to the Bastion's arm, and smoothly slid under the legs off the equine robot, circling around and entangling one of her hindquarters in the sturdy rope stuck to Bastion. Widowmaker pulled the string taut, as the OR15 tried to kick her hindquarters, losing balance and falling to the ground momentarily as the Bastion stumbled forward.

The assassin aimed at the exposed power source of the e54 as he whirred in alarm. Just as she took the shot, the bullet was stopped by a blue barrier. It ricocheted into the nearby wall. The OR15 shot the wire on her leg and lugged herself back up, firing some green sphere from her other gun that seemed to pull Widowmaker towards it. The force was weak, at first, but the next second she felt herself launched forward as the Bastion plunged his fist into her side, sending her careening into the wall. She staggered upward, using the gun as a crutch to force herself onto her feet as fuzzy pain radiated from her side, meaning she was likely hurt more than she felt.

“Surrender, agent of Talon!” the OR15 demanded, holding her gun out threateningly. Bastion chirped sadly from behind her, tilting his head.

“I cannot.”

“Then we will make you.”

Widowmaker hummed and smirked. “Or I could do this.” She lunged, prepared to hit the robot with her gun. It was foolish and would lead to nothing but injury. That’s what Widowmaker would count on. It would give them some small chance to rescue the girl that had so painstakingly won over the assassin’s respect.

The OR15 didn’t hesitate, grabbing Widowmaker’s wrist and twisting it as it let out a sickening snap. The assassin grunted but otherwise smirked. “Thanks. Now, if you do not mind, I must go.”

“Why on earth attack me like that?” The OR15 demanded, holding out her hand to stop Widowmaker, who merely slid under despite her injuries.

“That is for me to know and you to wonder,” Widowmaker taunted vaguely as she ran to meet her boss, who knew he was being overpowered by the three-man-onslaught.

The two exchanged knowing glances and ran.

“Get back here you coward!” Reinhardt bellowed, charging after the twosome with the rest of the crew close behind. Surely, though, the duo had bought enough time.

…

“Look who’s finally arrived,” Reaper taunted as Hana’s group rounded the corner to the prisoner hall. Sombra stood behind him, her usually cocky and smug face somewhat neutral.

“Howdy, Reyes. Been a while,” McCree greeted darkly, pulling out Peacekeeper.

“I see you haven’t changed a bit, Jesse. Though, I think you looked much better in your black uniform,” the ghost taunted, crossing his arms.

“Figures you would say that,” he snarled. “So, I don’t suppose you’d like to just up and give us Oxton back, would ya?”

“Now, why would I do that?” he asked innocently. “She’s going to be an asset to Talon.”

“Like hell!” McCree sneered, firing at Reyes’ neck. The bullet passed right through as Gabriel melted into smoke and began circling the group. He regained his form behind everyone, though Hana was ready as she whirled her mech around and activated her defence matrix, evaporating every bullet of the large shotguns with the deft flick of her fingers. Genji sprang into action, pulling out his blade and lunging at Gabriel, who evaporated under the slash of the sword.

D.va continued blocking his bullets when suddenly, all the systems in her mech jammed and her eject system activated without her activating it. The next instant, she was tossed out of her mech as she haphazardly landed on the metal floor, pulling her gun out. The mech’s lights were bright purple. She glared at Sombra, who was nonchalantly leaning against the wall, almost not paying attention.

“Hey! Leave my mech alone!” Hana snapped, firing her little pistol at Sombra, which may as well have been as useful as a peashooter; Sombra deftly tossed a small device into the air, transporting to it at the next second as she avoided all the fire. She landed right by the mech and typed a few things into her Holovid before anyone could react.

The mech whirred to life, charging sporadically at Genji and McCree depending on who was closer. The two barrelled out of the way as Mercy hung back, trying to use her nanotechnology to help the twosome fight.

“Alright Gabe,” Sombra nearly moaned, going back to leaning against the wall. Hana gasped as the smoke began to swirl around her, Reaper taking form and grabbing her by the wrist, quickly wrenching D.va’s gun from her.

“Come with me for a while, will you?” he asked in a melodic yet raspy voice.

“Guys! Help!” Hana cried as Reaper began pulling her away from the group.

“Hana!” Genji shouted as he dashed for the group, only to be intercepted by the rampaging MEKA suit. Nobody could reach her as she was whisked away to a **very** familiar room, the shouts of her team fading into the background.

“Hana! Hana! Are you okay?” she heard Winston cry through her mic. Reaper tsked, and pulled the communication device out of her ear, crushing it in his other hand as he forced the teenager to the room from the video.

The door was open, to Hana’s surprise. She kicked and fought for all she was worth as Reaper took her inside, Sombra following closely behind, her face still neutral.

The smell was horrid. Decay and blood and burning flesh assaulted Hana’s senses as she grew dizzy for a moment. The metal room was disgusting, with blood splattered in various places, some drier than others.

Then there was Tracer. The girl was motionless on the metal bench that must have been Talon’s sorry excuse for a bed. Her right leg fell off it at an entirely unnatural angle, as though the joints weren’t even there anymore. The skin below it was black and twisted and burnt and sick, the sickening sight only interrupted by one of the painful metal cuffs.

“Wake up, my Pet,” Reaper ordered, remote in hand.

His words seemed to jolt Lena awake as she snapped her eyes open and heaved herself into an upright position. Her eyes were dull and tired, as though she was done with everything.

Then Lena noticed D.va, and her eyes widened in horror. She turned to Reaper, her eyes pleading as she watched Hana struggle in Reyes’ grasp.

“Oh? You want me to let this girl go?” he asked, almost teased.

Lena coughed for several seconds before opening her mouth to speak. “L-let D.va go…” her voice was like a nail on a chalkboard, grating and painful to listen to.

“Hmm. I could, you know,” Reaper admitted. “But I thought I’d test something out on her, first.” Hana squirmed in protest as Reaper forced her to the ground, pinning her under him with his boot on her back, impossible to move as she tried to push away from the musty and disgusting floor.

Hana flinched as she felt him attack some small object to the back of her neck. It pierced her skin and latched on mercilessly. She didn’t feel anything immediately wrong, though. She had the feeling that wouldn’t last.

“You see this, my Pet?” Reaper cooed. Hana watched, pinned to the ground, Lena’s mouth fell wide open. “I think you know what this is. What did you call it, Sombra? The Toy? Well, let me tell you. I call it a chronal destabilizer.”

Hana flipped the words over in her head a few times until it dawned on her what was happening. “You’re threatening me as _blackmail?_ ” She roared from her position on the ground. “You’re an absolute sicko! Don’t you dare listen to him, Tracer! Everybody is coming! We can get out of here!”

Reaper chuckled. “You know, perhaps Tracer could, but what about you, D.va? Let me tell you. If I activate it remotely, or if anyone tries to remove or tamper with it… well, Pet, do you know what that means?” he turned to Lena, who was trembling, tears streaming down her face. “It means pro gamer Hana Song will join you in being the world’s next _freak_.”

Reaper let Lena comprehend his words before continuing. “She’ll be torn through space and time just as you are. She will be stuck in that void of time for who knows how long, given I wouldn’t be the one to stabilise her, and she’ll have no way to reach Overwatch once they flee this place. Why, she could be stuck as a freak-of-nature ghost for all eternity, dreaming about things that no person would ever be able to suffer through in a single lifetime, and it’ll be all your fault. Because of you, she will be the next victim of Chronal Disassociation. Now, you wouldn’t want that, would you?”

“Don’t listen to him, Tracer!” Hana cried, but the words went unheeded as Lena shivered from her spot on the bed.

“Don’t… please don’t do that. Please… Please… Please…” Lena begged, barely reaching her cuffed hand out, trembling like a new-born deer. She looked as though she desperately wanted to reach them, yet lacked the strength to leave the bed.

“You can stop me, and you know exactly how to do so,” Reaper declared ominously.

Hana watched the life drain from Lena’s eyes, as though her body lived yet her spirit died. A horrible look of hopelessness that Hana would be able to picture for the rest of her life was the expression of the broken, shattered person in front of them. She slouched over and bowed her head.

“Don’t you dare!” Hana cried out again. “Don’t you dare do it! Who cares if I’m lost in time or whatever? **DON’T YOU DARE GIVE UP OVER THIS!** ” Her words didn’t reach the prisoner.

“Okay… I give up. I’ll do whatever you want… Just don’t do it… Please…”

There was no more fight. No more defiance. No more joy, stubbornness, or anything. Her voice was empty and defeated. Tracer was gone.

Lena Oxton had finally broken.


	20. New

Chapter 20- New

“So, my Pet, do you understand my terms?” Reaper asked, with Hana still trapped under his boot.

Tracer’s voice was flat and dead, an endless void that boundless energy once filled. “Join Talon… Obey you guys… Protect Talon… Don’t speak out of turn… Don’t go back to Overwatch.”

“Cut that out, Lena! Don’t do it! Come on!” Hana tilted her head up to Reaper. “Seriously? If you were just going to use me as blackmail, why even bother with all this torture stuff?” she squealed as Reaper grabbed her by the hair, and bent down, pulling her head up so she could hear his soft words.

“Because now we know she is truly ours, and she will never look for a way out. She is a Talon agent now, and she knows it. Look at her.” He grabbed her hair and pulled her head up, so Hana was forced to look at the icon of Overwatch. Her eyes were unfocused, her expression neutral in a way that said: “There is nothing worth anything.” Her head lolled to the side, and Tracer didn’t react when Sombra came over to help her up. “Do you really think she’s going to look for a way out? Do you really think she’s loyal to you all, who failed her so miserably? But take comfort in knowing that her torture ends today. I have no intentions of harming her anymore.”

“Could you **be** any less cliché of a villain? Well, on the topic of cliché, just know that you’re not getting away with this!”

“We’ll see about that.”

“Could you do an evil laugh?” D.va asked snidely, earning a quick stomp on her arm, not enough to do damage but enough to hurt a decent amount as Hana grit her teeth.

Reaper lifted his foot off D.va’s back and grabbed her by the wrist, holding her arm behind her back so she couldn’t move as he spoke to Lena. “Now, so long as you uphold your end of the bargain, I will never have the button to destabilise this girl pressed,” he swore. “But now, prove you mean your words.” The ghost turned to Sombra, who was looking away, appearing disinterested. “Sombra, bring the new recruit over here.”

Sombra almost seemed to yawn as she wordlessly strode over to the bench Tracer was shivering on. “Come on, _Chica._ Let’s get you out of here. It’s almost over.” Sombra tugged Tracer’s right arm over her shoulder, allowing Lena to put her weight on the hacker. The mangled leg looked worse than in the video as sickening squishing and cracking sounds could be heard every limping step Lena took to the end of the room. Reaper pressed a button on the remote, and Lena shivered momentarily, squeezing her eyes shut as some bug on the back of her neck, not too different from the one Hana wore, began to light up.

Tracer kept her eyes down while Reyes seemed to assess how much she meant her words. Hana stared at Lena with pleading eyes, but her gaze was intentionally averted. “Now, my Pet, break Hana Song’s arm, then we will send her back to Overwatch. Prove you are loyal.”

“Seriously?! Because you haven’t messed with her enough already!” Hana shouted through grit teeth as Reaper whipped her around, revealing her left arm he pinned to her back. Hana couldn’t help but shake as she tipped her head back and watched sorrowfully, not even with fright, as Tracer bit her lip and grabbed Hana’s wrist with her trembling hand.

Hana howled as Lena quickly, with what little strength she had left, pulled Hana’s arm in a different direction from her elbow with an echoing **snap.** Red, hot pain flared up as D.va bucked and strained against Reaper, who was still holding her in his firm grasp.

When she finally settled down, Hana looked up at Lena again. “Tracer… don’t do this…” she begged again. “Seriously.. they’re coming!” she shouted through grit teeth as he arm screamed in protest to any movement.

Tracer looked away in shame and despair, yet made no effort to resist or fight back. There was no will left with which to fight.

“Let’s go,” Reaper ordered as Sombra wordlessly led Tracer down the corridor. The subdued hacker in front of Hana was a far cry from how everyone had described the supposedly sadistic puppeteer. D.va yelped as Reaper put one of his sharp claws to her throat, poking it just enough to cause a slight sting. It didn’t take any explaining for Hana to know she didn’t have much of a choice but move alongside Reaper as they slowly made their way down the hallway as Sombra held the crippled and malnourished girl at her side.

“Goodness gracious… you barely weigh anything…” Hana blinked in surprise at the soft words Sombra murmured, barely audible. Her voice was… Sympathetic? D.va’s head spun with the possibilities. Did Sombra regret taking Tracer to Talon? Did Sombra help in any way? Was the hacker… Guilty?

In such a short time, the group had thankfully just managed to subdue her mech as the purple glow had faded, and Genji, of all people, sat in the cockpit. They intercepted halfway down the hallway as her mech haphazardly stomped down the path. Everyone froze in their tracks as they were presented with this impasse.

“Hello again,” Reaper called out smoothly, still holding the sharp, clawed glove to Hana’s throat as she leaned as far away as possible.

She watched as Jesse’s mind whir as he comprehended what he was seeing in front of him. His eyes were cold and enraged as his gaze flickered between Lena, then Gabriel, then Hana, then back to Gabriel. Mercy was several feet behind him, one hand holding her staff, one covering her mouth in disbelief.  Genji’s expression was unreadable, though his hands were stiff on the joysticks of Hana’s mech.

“Gabriel,” McCree greeted stonily. “Can ya go back to bein’ dead?”

“I see you’re as socially graceful as always,” Gabriel almost teased, cocking his head. “I’m afraid I can’t right now, thanks to a certain someone in the room,” he leaned forward, appearing to be staring at… Mercy? Genji tipped his head up in surprise, but for the time being, McCree seemed unaffected. Angela looked as though she had been struck by lightning, her body tense as she dropped her gaze for several seconds.

Gabriel feigned shock, putting his free hand over his heart. (If he had one, D.va would add.) “What? Angie? You didn’t tell them? I’m hurt. Well, I’ll let you guys talk things out. Go on. Tell them!” he prompted, his dark and gritty voice imitating that of an excited child.

“I… I didn’t…” Dr Ziegler took a deep breath, meeting Reyes’ gaze as her grip on her staff tightened. “You know this is not what I wanted.”

“But it happened, and you did nothing about it,” he mused, anger lining his words now.

Hana was feeling dangerous today. “Heya! If you’re done chit-chatting about your tragic backstory and playing the pronoun game, carefully avoiding any actual context as to what you’re talking about, how about we bring up the fact that my back’s starting to hurt from this position, and you’re kind of threatening to kill me right now!” she grunted. “Not to mention your ‘pet’ that looks like she needs some medical attention, and my arm is absolutely killing me. So, if you don’t mind, can we get on with this and deal with the edgy stuff later?” Hana momentarily felt Reaper’s claw dig into her chin, drawing a tiny speck of blood before he stopped himself. It was almost s pity. Pissing off the murderous terrorist would have been one heck of a way to go, and Hana **really** wasn’t up for being blackmail.

“You’re right. I’m sure reminiscing can come later. In the meantime, we’re going to walk to the escape ship. If Sombra detects any attempt to warn your group, or if you make a step out of line, I slit this girl’s throat.”

“This girl has a name, you know!” Hana shouted in annoyance. It was stupid, she knew it was stupid, but she was **not** in the mood to be a quiet, obedient hostage.

Her mech took several shuddering steps back as Genji worked the controls. McCree whipped his head between the cyborg and Hana, tightening his grip around Peacekeeper. The cowboy took slow, wary steps backwards, ready to shoot at a moment’s notice.

Angela was yet to move. She stood still, not sure what to think or do. She gave McCree a defensive glare as he put his hand on her shoulder with a painfully neutral expression. She flinched but began backing up as well.

Hana grunted as Reaper prodded her forward. She could see the fury in McCree’s eyes, hidden behind neutrality as he continually moved his gaze between Hana, her now broke arm, and Lena’s tired unfocused eyes. Genji’s eyes were hidden by the visor, but Hana would wager his face looked about the same, given the jerky way her mech moved, not guided by fluent or relaxed hands.

That walk to the escape ship was one of the most awkward and annoying experiences of Hana’s life.

…

“My team has the bomb set!” Efi called out joyously to her group. Torbjörn was bust issuing commands to his team, but Winston seemed stressed as he bit his lip and quickly typed on his keyboard. “Dr Winston?” the little girl called out, chewing her tongue nervously. The gorilla jumped, glancing at Efi for a brief moment before turning back to his screen.

“Oh, Efi… Good, have them meet in the main hall…” he muttered.

“What’s… what’s wrong?” she asked as he flinched, his eyes glued to the screen.

“Lots of things,” he responded, gritting his teeth.

Efi chanced a peek at his screen, and her heart caught in her throat. She nudged Torbjörn, who responded with a grunt of acknowledgement as he moved his gaze between Winston and his monitors for a few seconds, calmly issuing commands.

“Oi, Efi, we may wanna get the hell outta dodge,” Junkrat called through the mic, drawing her attention.

“What? Is something wrong?” the child answered, immediately checking her agent’s vitals. They all appeared to be fine.

“It would seem,” Symmetra began, her voice annoyed and stressed, “That this… hooligan saw it fit to put a five-minute timer on the bomb.”

“What?!” Efi cried. “I saw you assemble the whole thing! There was no timer!”

“Well, not like I made it **visible**. But yeah, five minutes. Might wanna get movin’.”

“Ummm… guys?” she called to the other two. “Junkrat put a timer on the bomb. Five minutes.”

Torbjörn snarled. “What? Control your agents for goodness’ sake!” Efi recoiled and bowed her head as he barked orders into his communicator. “Where are your people now?”

“On their,” Efi’s voice caught as she forced away the shame. “On their way to the entrance. They’ll be there in a minute or so.”

“Well, they’re taking a detour. Everyone is on their way to the main hangar.”

“The… hangar? But the base is underground!”

“Look at your map, and get them over there!” Torbjörn shouted with his eyes still glued to his screen. “This is why we don’t put a twelve-year-old in charge of a life-or-death situation!”

“I- I’m sorry… I’m sorry. I’ll tell them,” Efi choked, holding back a sob as she directed her team past several corridors to reach the hangar.

“G-go right, guys. Okay, now… Um… left! It’s left!” she stumbled, trying to guide her running team to the leading group. The hangar was likely attached to the main gathering room, though it’d be a gamble, given she didn’t have time to check the map.

“Gah, it’ll be shorter if you take them past the second hallway!” Torbjörn criticised as he frantically alternated between his agent’s stats, commanding them each way. Efi recoiled, and her fingers grew unsteady as she tried to stop shaking, blinking away a tear as she quickly corrected herself and made her team turn into a different hallway. It was only a short way to the hangar now, Efi would bet.

“Rookies… I knew I would’ve rather had the bucket of bolts doing this job…”

Efi stayed quiet, keeping her head low in shame.

“Oh, don’t listen to him!” Mei comforted, placing a hand on the small child’s shoulder as she watched the monitor. “You’re doing great! He’s just a grumpy grouch!”

“I am not!” Torbjörn snapped, rolling his eyes.

“See what I mean?” Mei added, making Efi giggle slightly. The climatologist backed away with a satisfied smile. “There we go. Don’t you worry. Everything will be all right.”

Efi sniffed once more and smiled back at the girl who had been frozen in time and gave her a reassuring thumb up.

“He is just stressed,” Zenyatta assured, his voice melodic, putting Efi at ease.

“Alrighty! Everything **will** be fine! I’ll make sure of it!”

Mei shot Torbjörn a condescending glare as she backed away, satisfied with herself as Efi resumed watching her team with a new surge of confidence. It wasn’t over yet. They still had a shot.

…

The hangar was small. One room, small, with a jet, also small. The large door for the plane was open, revealing a long tunnel that would lead to the surface. A huge group was in the hall before the hangar. Genji was in a mech, Jesse and Angela were slightly further back. McCree was tense. There were other people, a bit further down the hall. An OR15 of some kind, and an old Bastion. Lúcio was there. The Junkers, who had been on news reports, followed a woman Lena didn’t know. The Captain and Commander held their guns up, ready to shoot if they could.

Lena hoped they didn’t. She couldn’t go with them. Lena couldn’t go to Overwatch. She swivelled her head to glance at the blurry visage of the pro-gamer, D.va. Reaper grasped her arm firmly, D.va trying to cradle the arm Lena broke. The chronal destabiliser glowed threateningly on her neck.

Lena dropped her head as a fresh wave of nausea assaulted her. The world seemed to tip around her, and Sombra tightened her grip on Lena’s arm. The metal cuff on Lena’s damaged leg weighed her down like lead. Keeping it off the ground was hard. She couldn’t feel the leg. It bent wrong. Her eyelids were heavy, and her whole body felt cold and hot at the same time, with a numbness that alternated with soreness blocking most other sensations. It was hard to breathe. Her throat burned, her stomach felt like an empty void. Everything was shaking, or maybe Lena was the one trembling. She couldn’t tell. She didn’t feel like she was in her own body. It was like she was a spirit that had poorly overshadowed another person, trying to use unfamiliar limbs and see through eyes that weren’t hers.

It was nothing like the dreams. The dreams were vivid, but faded, but had an underlying feeling of “it would be okay,” since they would end. This wouldn’t end. The moment lasted an eternity, both sides staring each other down. Two people were visible in Lena’s peripheral vision. Widowmaker and Doomfist. Lena remembered him. He broke the chronal accelerator once. She knew she didn’t like him. But now she worked for him, and the rest of Talon. She needed to listen to them and fight for them and protect them.

 “Lena,” she heard Jesse. His voice sounded calm. “Ya don’t need to listen to Talon,” he assured, his gun still drawn.

Hana gasped a long string of words from Reaper’s grasp. “She’s being blackmailed! He’s using me as blackmail! Something on my neck! Chronal destabiliser!” she let out a strained cough as Reaper held her in a choke hold, cutting off her oxygen supply, barely short enough so that she didn’t lose consciousness.

Everyone was frozen, not sure what to do. Reaper spoke up.

“We’ll be going now.” Lena felt herself be tugged backwards, towards the ship. Reaper was a couple feet away with Hana. Then they were at the jet’s entrance. There was a blur of movement. Reaper pushed Hana away towards Overwatch. Genji ejected from the mech and ran to her side as she tumbled to the floor. A few people seemed confused by Reaper’s actions.

“Tracer!” Lena heard D.va shout as Sombra helped her hobble up the last few steps to the ship. Then Lena saw it, the quick flick of Genji’s wrist. A blur of green and silver, heading towards Reaper. Other loud noises rang out. One thought echoed in her head.

 _I need to protect Talon_.

Sombra yelped in surprise as Lena pushed away from her, using her good leg to leap to the side, in front of Reaper. Something hit her chest. Cold and sharp and painful for a brief second, numb the next. Lena saw red as she hit the floor with a heavy thud. She felt herself cough and sputter for a moment. More red.

“¡ _Mierda!”_ Sombra cried out. Lena couldn’t move. She couldn’t feel anything. She saw herself be picked up. She saw Genji, frozen and unmoving. She saw Jesse, furious. Angela was terrified. D.va looked to be in horror, her hand covering her mouth with tears on her cheeks. There was a shadowy wraith that rushed onto the plane. Lena was being carried to the aircraft.

Lena’s vision grew blurry. Everything was fuzzy. Darkness crept in. She welcomed it with open arms.

…

“Alright. She’ll live for a little while longer,” one of the three doctors, an Omnic, on the ship finally assured after an hour of Sombra pacing around the cramped jet while they worked on Lena. Widowmaker was sitting down, nursing her hand that had been injured, though Doomfist had wondered how she could hurt herself so foolishly. Widowmaker had ignored him.

“We had to destabilise her partially, to minimise the effect of time on her body, at least until we’re able to properly treat her wounds.” His voice was calm and collected, condescending, even. “She is not in good condition. We’ve removed the shuriken from her chest and done as much as we can to stop the bleeding, but she’ll need a blood transfusion once we know her blood type.”

“And her leg?” Sombra asked nervously, fiddling with her HoloVid.

The doctor dipped his head. “I see no alternative. We’ll have to amputate it. There is too much gangrene. The leg is essentially dead on her. As for the cuffs she’s wearing, we can’t risk removing them until we have some actual equipment, or else she will bleed out immediately.”

Reaper nodded. “We will be at the headquarters in a couple hours. Keep her alive until then.” If the doctor was at all unnerved by Reaper, he didn’t show it.

Sombra sighed, settling down in one of the seats as she listened to the hum of the engine. She watched the prisoner intently, as though looking away would spell her death. Her breaths were short and ragged, and her entire form, while solid, seemed to glitch, like a blip on a screen Sombra had hacked. Little “glitches” in her form as time tried to rip her from this world. Her sleep didn’t seem peaceful, her brows knit together, and she stirred often. The cuffs remained secure around her body, but removing them would cause Lena to bleed even more.

“Worried about your new friend?” Reaper appeared to tease, snapping Sombra out of her thoughts.

“Pfft. I just don’t feel like having a dead teammate is all,” Sombra assured, her voice nonchalant. Reaper nodded.

“I see.” Sombra got the feeling he didn’t buy it, but it wasn’t like either of them would bring it up. “Now, I hope you don’t mind preparing Oxton’s room when we arrive at the next base.” It wasn’t a question. It was obviously an order. All the top-ranking agents had rooms prepared at each of the major facilities. That meant Reaper intended on putting her… up there, in the ranks. Likely equal or one or two slots below Sombra.

“Well, what do you want me to put in said room? A paddleboard or rubber ball?”

Reaper laughed darkly. “Of course not. Now, she is to feel welcome. She gets the standard.”

Sombra blinked in surprise and ran through the checklist in her head. The “standard” involved a HoloVid, toiletries, Talon uniforms, the personalised combat outfit Reaper had designed, and any “special need” items unique to each agent. For Widowmaker, it would be some of the medication she took given her weakened immune system. For Sombra, it was her variety of technology since that was where most of her usefulness to the organisation lied. For Lena, it would be her chronal tech.

It was surprisingly generous to give such luxuries to someone Reaper had been quite literally torturing mere hours earlier.

Sombra just nodded. “Yeah, sure. I’ll prep it. But I guess it’ll be a while before she can move to said room?” she directed the question to the doctor busily monitoring Lena’s vitals as best he could in her current state.

The Omnic nodded. “She will need a fair amount of medical attention before she is ready to do much of anything.”

Sombra shot Reaper a glare. “You really think this wasn't overkill? It’s gonna be weeks now before she can do anything for us!”

Reaper barely moved. “It was necessary.”

“Surely you…”

“Sombra.” His words were sharp and commanding. Sombra quieted down, ignoring the gazes of the other passengers as she glared at her boss. “Do not forget your place here.”

Sombra grit her teeth, making sure to put as much venom as possible into her voice, “Okay, _Boss._ ”

…

Morale was at an all-time low as the group flew back to Gibraltar. The Junkers, Lúcio, and Symmetra were on the same ship as last time, this time with Mei as well. Commander Morrison, Ana, Orisa, Torbjörn, and Bastion rode together as Torbjörn repaired any damage he could to the Omnics. The third ship hosted D.va’s mech, Zenyatta, and Reinhardt.

The fourth ship was where most of the chaos was. Hana grit her teeth as she cradled her broken arm, which was attached to a painkiller IV drip. She sat backwards on a chair as Efi and Winston checked the device on her neck.

“And Reaper called it a chronal destabiliser?” Winston asked nervously. Efi stood on a foldable chair, peering over Winston’s shoulder, leaning on him for support.

D.va sighed. “He said it’d give me chronal disassociation if anyone tried to remove it or if he activated it.”

“Do you feel okay?” Efi asked as she tapped the device, making Winston jump.

“Aside from the fact that it’s poking into my skin?” Hana tried to joke, wincing when it fell flat. “Yeah, I feel fine in that regard,” she sighed again. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Winston ordered, his voice neutral as he took a step back. “You didn’t put that thing on your neck.”

“Well, I still feel bad. I tried to stop her, but she didn’t listen.”

Efi hummed, “Trying is all we can do. But hey, we managed to blow up a major Talon base! That has to count for something, right?”

Hanzo huffed nearby as he flew the jet. “Blackmail. This Talon group knows no honour.”

Mercy tenderly held Hana’s arm. “Are you okay with me setting the bone here?” Her voice was gentle, but still very business-like.

Hana winced. “Go ahead.”

“Here,” Mercy offered gently as she handed Hana a clean, white cloth. “Bite down on this.”

Hana did as she was told, trying to keep from shaking as Mercy gingerly felt Hana’s arm.

Then there was agony, brief and sharp as spots appeared in Hana’s vision. She clamped her teeth down on the rag, allowing the fabric to stifle her cry.

“Well done, Hana,” Mercy complemented after a few seconds. D.va gasped for breath, putting her head on the back of the chair. “Not many people handle a bone setting this well. My nanotech can accelerate the repair from here.” Hana sighed in relief as the pain faded away, the golden glow of the doctor’s staff washing over her arm.

“How does that thingy work?” Efi asked as she leaned over Winston to watch the nanotechnology. “Why can’t you use it to heal just any wound?”

Angela chuckled. “The bots themselves do not heal. They accelerate the healing process. Wounds such as burns need to be regularly treated to heal properly without scars and the likes, but bones are fairly low-maintenance once they’ve been set. The doctor nodded in satisfaction, taking a step back. She grabbed something out of her first-aid kit and began wrapping Hana’s arm. Once that was done, she slathered the bandages with some sort of thick, viscous cream that solidified into a cast. It was a fairly new technology, from what Hana had heard.

Angela finished her makeshift operation by using a softer fabric to create a small pouch-like splint that would go around Hana’s neck. The doctor winced upon realising Hana’s neck was currently occupied by the destabiliser, and instead attached the strap to D.va’s shoulders. It was a bit more awkward but would work.

“There we go. You should be able to remove the cast by tomorrow. Just hop on by the medical wing.”

Hana nodded. “Thanks, Doctor.” Hana kept her voice low, rotating her head a bit, as though to shake off the uncomfortable device on her neck. “So is there anything we can do about this “Toy,” as Sombra called it?

Winston sighed. “We’ll have to look into it more at Gibraltar. Efi? Can you look into that? I need to report this mission to the UK and deal with some of the press.” Winston’s voice was low and lifeless as he spoke. It was understandable, considering he had essentially lost one of his best friends.

“Hey…” Efi comforted. “Lena’s still alive, I bet! And you know what? We’ll get her back here! We’ll figure out this Toy thingy on Hana, too! Lena is alive and well, and Hana will be okay!”

Genji, whom Hana had forgotten was one the ship, spoke up. His voice was cold. “How could you say such a thing!? You are not familiar with the cruelty of Talon, Child! Lena is **not** fine and might never be fine again! She might not even survive after the shuriken I threw into her chest!” Genji roared in frustration, slamming his fist on the table as McCree watched, his face painfully neutral.

“Hey! I know I’m still a kid, but I saw what they did to her! I’m young, not blind! We all know you didn’t mean to hit her! We didn’t expect her to run in front of Reaper like that! How could we have known that would happen? We couldn’t!”

“Don’t be oblivious to the facts! I hit her, she might die, and if she doesn’t, Lena has been **brainwashed** to Talon!” Genji sneered from behind his visor.

“What? You think that I’m oblivious just because I’m an idealist? I’m aware of the world around me! I’ve read the news! I saw the Doomfist attack! I lost friends when he attacked, but you don’t see me edgelording around like I forget the good guys can still win!”

Genji quieted for an instant, thinking about Efi’s words. “Who says we’re good guys?”

“I do! You’re trying to make the world better!”

Genji barked a brittle, broken laugh. “You obviously don’t know anything about me.”

Efi glared, “I know you’re trying to stop the terrorists! Which can only be so much of a crime!”

“When you work how I do? I think you need to look up Blackwatch once and a while, Kid.”

“What you did doesn’t define who you are.”

“Well, if it’d help me find Lena, I guarantee I’d do everything I’ve done to people tenfold. I doubt you can see much light in that with your shiny view of the world,” Genji retorted in frustration.

Angela held her hand up, silencing the two as everyone watched her nervously. “Quit bickering like schoolchildren! We will save Lena one way or another, but now is not the time nor the place to have such pointless arguments!”

“Yes ma’am,” Efi conceded, looking down as she settled down onto the nearby seat. Hana looked at the doctor, who nodded, though her eyes were sad. Hana took this as permission to leave the chair and sit next to Efi. D.va could tell the girl was trying to put on a brave face as she sat up straight with eyes straight forward.

Hana wrapped her good arm around Efi, patting her on the shoulder as she did so. The little girl relaxed a bit as she leaned into Hana’s side.

“We’ll figure this out…” Efi promised. “I know it. We’ll get that thing off your neck.”

Hana nodded in agreement. “I know we will.”

The two were silent for a few seconds, then Efi spoke up nervously, “Can I take a nap now, though?” Efi asked, her voice full of exhaustion. “This is like, the seventh most stressful day I’ve had.”

“Only if I can join you.”

The two girls fell asleep minutes later, leaning against each other as the jet thrummed on their way back to Gibraltar.

…

Lena couldn’t tell when she had woken up, or for how long she had been awake. Then she gasped as thoughts and memories flooded her. She snapped her eyes open and sat up. A wave of nausea assaulted her, and it took several seconds before Lena could do so much as look around.

The room was different. She wasn’t in her cell. Instead, she appeared to be in a hospital room. The walls were a pale violet with no windows, but medical equipment littered a nearby desk. Lena was on a bed. As in, a real, soft bed. It was unbelievably comfortable. Or maybe Lena was just glad to have a cushion to lie on again. She didn’t know.

The pain Lena had become so familiar with had dulled as well. It no longer hurt to breathe, air coming in and out of her lungs with extreme ease. Gingerly, Lena tapped her neck. There was no cuff. Her arms felt light as air, and Lena found that instead of the cuffs, they had a thick layer of bandages covering each of them. Feeling her hospital gown also revealed the cuff on her Torso had been removed. There was a slight sting in Lena’s chest with every little movement, and she vaguely remembered jumping in front of Reaper. Though, most of her memories from that event were fuzzy.

The memory of D.va was vivid as ever. Lena had to come here. She had to work for Talon now, or else Hana Song would be destabilised. Lena sighed, falling back on the bed, barely avoiding the several IV drips attached to her arm. She was so _done_ with it all. Whatever Talon wanted her to do, she’d do it. She couldn’t handle any more of that. No more of the cuffs, or the magnets, or the destabilisation, or the shocking. It sounded too good to be true.

Then Lena realised something. She felt… odd. As in, off-kilter. She sat back up, remembering her hurt leg. She still couldn’t feel it. Gingerly, Lena pulled the covers off her legs. Her left one was fine, with bandages wrapping it as well. As for her other leg-

Lena froze, the blanket slipping from her grasp. Her right leg was **gone**. About halfway down the thigh, a prosthetic clasp had been attached, smooth and shiny and new. Lena felt the bottom of it, wincing as she felt nothing where her leg had once been. Reaper had been right. She was a “crippled pet.”

Her train of thought was interrupted by the door opening, making her snap to attention immediately. Much to Lena’s surprise, it wasn’t Reaper. It was Sombra.

“Hey, Lena. I hope you’re feeling better; you’ve been out for a few days,” she offered, helping herself by sitting in a nearby chair.

Lena stayed silent, watching as the hacker reached below the bed. “Oh, in case you were wondering, I don’t know if you saw it, but here’s your harness.” Lena made a small gasp as Sombra set the chronal accelerator on the bed next to Lena. Except it was different. The fabric colour had been changed to a dark purple, and the holographic gear that was always spinning was a bright, vivid pink. Almost hot pink, in fact.

Sombra noticed Lena’s surprise. “Oh, the colour change is purely cosmetic. I upgraded this thing a bit, but other than that it’s the same as before.”

Lena slowly reached for it, sighing in relief as she wrapped her arms around her anchor, feeling the familiar buzz of the harness as she held it to her chest.

“By the way,” Sombra added as Lena looked up. “I wouldn’t suggest talking for a while. Your throat isn’t doing too well.”

Lena nodded, unconsciously rubbing the bandages loosely wrapped around her neck. “Here.” Lena noticed that Sombra actually had a bag with her, and out of it, the hacker pulled two large water bottles, a variety of candies, three sandwiches, and other oddball snacks one might find packed in a school lunch. Lena looked up in surprise as Sombra set the meal out in front of her.

“Hey, you’re a Talon agent now. It’s time you’re finally treated like one. That starts by giving you the nutrients you need. Sorry I couldn’t get more. Reaper was a pest.”

The food was amazing. Lena tore through it all in a matter of minutes, relishing the different flavours and textures. The water was cold and clean and plentiful and amazing. The sandwiches were all different flavours. One with ham and cheese, one with peanut butter and jelly, and one that had too many ingredients for Lena to count. When she was finished, she gave Sombra a grateful look.

“Geez, you look like a puppy when you make eyes like those. Okay. I gotta go do some things for Talon, but I’ll be back later. The technology department has started on a prosthetic for you, so I’ll bring that by when it needs testing. Your uniform should be done in a bit as well, so I’ll show you that, too. In the meantime, here.”

Sombra set something on Lena’s lap. It was small and cylindrical. A HoloVid. “It’s just a simple movie HoloVid, and I put a few films on it, but that should be enough to entertain you for a few hours.” Sombra stood up and stretched, shovelling the plastic and wrappers from the food into the trash can before heading to the door. She turned to Lena before leaving, her voice surprisingly warm. “Welcome to Talon. I promise things will be better from here on out.”

…

“I- I’ll figure something out! I know it!” Efi promised as Hana once again sat on her bed with Efi peering at the Toy, then at notes and designs for the chronal tech. Lúcio sat nearby, setting up for a stream the three of them had agreed to do that night.

“We know you will, Efi,” he agreed as he fiddled with some chords.

Hana sighed and stared at the ground. “I hate this…” she admitted. “It’s been a week! And I still have this thing on me! It’s not even that we can’t get it off, it’s that it’s on in the first place!”

Efi flinched. “It’s not your fault,” she offered for the umpteenth time.

“Well, I need to do **something** about it! What would you say the odds of this thing having a camera, or a tracker, or a microphone or something are?”

Efi thought for a moment. “I’d say pretty high. That way, Reaper could still show Lena that it was on you.”

“See? I’m still just a bargaining chip or a piece of blackmail! Maybe if we get it off, Lena will come back to Overwatch!”

Lúcio winced. “Honestly? After what we saw? I think it’s unlikely. Besides, Talon isn’t going to just let her trot back over here, even if she wants to do so.”

“And I was the tipping point!” Hana shouted in frustration. “Imagine how that feels, knowing that because of you, somebody had completely turned their back on their friends and family!”

“They would have gotten to her one way or another,” Lúcio tried to comfort, finally setting down the chords and wires.

“No, because we would have saved her!”

“Or they would have stuck the Toy on someone else!”

“But they didn’t! They stuck it on me, and now we’re sitting here, doing absolutely nothing to help!”

Efi recoiled, looking away. “Sorry… I’m trying. I really am. I just don’t know what to do about it. I can’t open it up and see how it works since that could trigger it, much like tearing it off would.”

Hana froze, staring at the ground for an instant. Lúcio noticed, and his eyes widened.

“Hana… Hana, don’t you do what I think you’re thinking! That’s crazy!”

“Why is it?” Hana asked. “At least Reaper couldn’t use me against Lena anymore!”

“Yeah, but for what? She might not come back, and that will be for nothing!”

“No, it won’t be!” Hana shouted, her resolve strengthening. “At least she’ll have nothing **keeping** her there, and maybe we can get her out easier! And **I** don’t need to be someone’s pawn!”

“Hana. Look at me,” Lúcio ordered, his voice calm. “This isn’t worth it. From what we’ve all heard, Lena’s condition sucks! And with no way to make another accelerator, you’d be stuck with us having no way to help!”

“Well, then at least it’d be my fault, and I can’t be used against Lena!”

“No! Don’t you dare!” Lúcio shouted as Hana’s hand flew to her neck. She pushed Efi back as the child tried to stop her, causing her to fall back on the bed.

“I’m sorry,” Hana stated simply.

Then she closed her fingers around the Toy.

Then she tore it out.

Then agony swept over Hana as blue consumed her vision. Nothing became real, and Hana screeched as she felt her body torn apart.

Then all became an endless darkness as Hana was forced into the essence of time itself.


	21. Morals

_ **Overwatch: Lost in Time- Part 4** _

_ **Silenced** _

_ **** _

**Chapter 21: Morals**

It was blindingly bright, yet it was endlessly dark. Hana was on fire, yet she was encased in ice. She was in pain, yet she could not feel it. She just _knew_ she was in pain. She couldn’t move. Hana had nothing _to_ move. She felt trapped, yet far too free. There was no way to honestly describe the void of nothing and everything stretched out before her.

Was Hana dead? Is this death? No, it could not be. This must be chronal disassociation. Hana was lost in time. How long was she going to be here? A second? A minute? A day? A month? A year? Forever? D.va would have shivered if she had a body to move. No, Lena had come back from being “lost in time,” so surely Hana would too.

But how long would Hana have to wait? She couldn’t even track time correctly. If she tried to count the seconds, she couldn’t measure the gap in time between them, because she was in time itself. Hana longed for the ability to stretch her arms out or to take a deep breath or to move at all. While she was here, the very concept of a body felt like such an abstract concept. It was difficult to fathom movement in this void of nothingness, like a vague idea from a dream one can hardly remember.

Hana was also bored. There was nothing to listen to save the endless droning of her thoughts running in circles. All she could do was wait for something, anything to happen.

She waited.

She waited.

Was her squad doing anything right now? When was now? Were they training or on another mission?

She waited.

Hana waited.

All she did was wait.

Hana wondered what Lúcio did about the stream they had planned. Maybe it was rash to rip the Toy off so suddenly.

More waiting.

What else was there to do?

Was this a bad idea? Most likely. Hana would have sighed. Here she was, experiencing exactly what she bargained for. It was hard to tell if it was wise or not.

Waiting.

Waiting.

Something.

Hana felt something. It was as though she was sinking, the dark light hot cold around her fading away, as though she was being tugged away. She wanted to scream, to cry for help, to struggle or do anything she could.

Hana felt her mind slipping, her thoughts changed, and light appeared. She heard a voice. She was somewhere, or somewhen.

…

_Hana didn’t know what was going on. She suddenly realised she was in Numbani, except it was a wreck. Buildings were damaged, the colourful streets with numerous shops were in shambles. Hana was moving. But she wasn’t. She couldn’t control herself. In the corner of her eye, Hana saw Tracer, as fine as she’s always been in the propaganda. Hana wanted to call out to her, but her head remained ever forward as she ran around the man she had briefly seen on the Talon missions. It was Doomfist, the metal gauntlet secured to his arm. She was running towards him. It was only then that Hana realised._

_She wasn’t herself. Statistics and analyses started blinking into her view in Japanese of all things. Despite Hana never having learned much Japanese beyond a few simple sentences, she felt herself read and analyse them with brutal efficiency._

_And yet, despite everything, the scariest thing of all was that the voice she heard thinking wasn’t her own._

**_“Doomfist. Tracer is circling behind, I go in front.”_ **

_Hana would have screamed. It was Genji’s voice in her head. No. That wasn’t it. Hana was in Genji’s head. She was experiencing the events of the battle with Doomfist._

_“Genji! Winston’s down!” Tracer cried through a communicator that didn’t appear to be in Genji’s ear. It must have been in his helmet._

_“He’ll be fine! Just keep going!”  Genji ran at exhilarating speeds, jumping and flipping around in ways Hana could never dream of doing. Genji dashed alongside the wall of a skyscraper, the city becoming a speck as his modifications kept him elevated. The wind rushed by, a slight whistling audible through the helmet._

_Hana felt Genji’s sense of alarm as Doomfist saw the ninja, hurling a car door towards him in a giant Frisbee of pain._

_The city became a blur of pictures and colours as Genji flipped over, throwing ninja stars at Doomfist. The behemoth of a man instinctively blocked them with his gauntlet as Tracer fired a round of bullets into his back, earning an annoyed growl as he turned around to fight the time-hopping girl. Hana heard Genji’s voice in her head as he thought._

“Lena is doing well with dodging, must find an opening.”

_Despite the thoughts being in Japanese, Hana understood them with perfect clarity._

**_“Moves on reaction, turns it into action. Learns our patterns. There!”_ **

_Hana felt Genji speed forward in an instant, his metallic limbs gifting him supernatural grace as he ran towards Doomfist._

**_“He sees me!”_ ** _Genji thought in alarm as Doomfist slammed his fist into the concrete, creating a shockwave of debris. Genji launched himself upward, prepared to hurl more ninja stars._

_The attacker momentarily ignored Tracer, grabbing the nearest car and pulling it off the ground as he threw it at Genji._

_Hana mentally screamed right with Genji’s roar as he pulled the sword out of his sheath. There was an enormous surge of energy as the cyborg sliced through the vehicle as though it was butter._

_“Genji!” Lena screeched through everyone's coms as Genji, suspended in air, had no way of avoiding Doomfist as the man jumped at the cyborg. Pain blossomed in Genji’s chest as the punch connected, sending the cyborg crashing to the ground. On instinct, Genji righted himself, digging his feet into the ground in a futile attempt to stop his momentum as he crashed into one of the cars._

_Errors. There were a lot of errors. Red lights starting blinking onto the visor screen, Genji grunted and groaned as he strained to push past the pain and move, yet he could not. His joints were locking up, sparks flying from the circuits. Hatred and rage circled in Genji’s head._

**_”Cyborg… Cyborg… freak of nature… not human… LENA!”_ ** _In the corner of his eye, Genji saw Winston passing him, finally back up after the hit he took._

_Tracer was running towards Doomfist. “Don’t worry, Genji! I’ll get this guy!” She laughed nervously as Genji strained to move, yet his damaged circuitry prevented his systems from functioning properly._

_“Don’t worry… don’t worry…! I got this!” she rambled as she blinked around Doomfist almost too fast for eyes to track._

_Almost._

_“Lena!” Genji screeched in horror and outrage. Doomfist lunged, grabbing hold of Tracer’s harness in the split-second Tracer was still, before tearing the back of it out. Tracer screamed in agony as the show of sparks cascaded from her accelerator in a bright blue shower._

_“Lena! No…!” Winston muttered in horror into the communicator. Doomfist smirked, crushing the back of the accelerator in his fist, dropping the pieces of wiring, metal, and other components to the rubble. Tracer clutched her head, writhing mid-air as her body began to flicker and glitch and fade sporadically. Her voice was distorted as she cried out, the front of the harness starting to flicker off._

_“W-w-W-WInsToN, HElP M-m-M-mE!” Winston and Genji watched in horror as Lena flickered back and forth across the street, until she reached out for Winston, eyes pleading as she vanished in a glimmer of blue light._

_Genji bucked and roared against the failing programming that kept him immobilised, fury and rage roaring through his mind. Hana felt her mind invaded by his mental and literal screams of rage, making it hard to think her own thoughts. Genji became focused on Doomfist as he used sheer force of will and anger to pull himself upright, hardly able to move yet fully prepared to murder Doomfist._

_In the corner of his eyes, Genji saw Winston, the Gorilla’s skin taking on a reddish hue as his horrified expression melted into fury. Doomfist charged his gauntlet, charging to meet Winston as the two collided punches as Winston launched himself upward with a roar._

_The shockwave was massive, nearly knocking Genji off his feet as the Gauntlet discharged energy, the street tearing itself up._

_Doomfist fell, flying backwards onto the asphalt as Winston ran up to meet him, pinning the man to the ground as he roared again, his skin returning to its usual blue. Doomfist struggled, the gauntlet sparking and damaged with blood on his shoulders. Genji heard Winston through the microphone. “Never. Hurt. My Family.”_

_Genji groaned again, straining against his sparking and malfunctioning body as he made slow, strained steps over to where Doomfist destroyed the chronal accelerator, pain pulsing through his body like a heartbeat, each step enough to incapacitate a lesser man. It was almost too much for Hana to bear, yet she had no choice but continue as Genji, step after step to the mountain of rubble._

_Genji found the pieces on the ground. Some of the metal was bent and distorted, some completely torn off with circuitry and technological components scattered throughout the rubble._

_“Genji, are you okay?” he heard Mercy’s voice through his helmet._

_“Yes, Angela. I will be okay. The accelerator is broken, though.”_

_“I understand, Genji,” she responded, all business. “Winston will deal with the press and Doomfist. The authorities are ready to take Doomfist away. I will be down there soon with parts to repair your circuitry and the accelerator.”_

_“Thank you, Angela.”_

_“Of course, Genji. Just make sure to get whatever parts you can and get out of sight. Best keep quiet about Blackwatch right now.”_

_Ten minutes later, Genji was on a nearby rooftop, watching the chaos below as Angela busily worked on the harness next to him. Movement still hurt, and the errors continued flashing on the screen, yet Genji would remain still until Lena was back. He wasn’t going to let his freakish body get in the way of getting Lena back. There were cheers from the crowd below, Commander Morrison standing near Winston as the reporters and crowds asked question after question to the now-famous gorilla._

_Mercy shook her head. “Genji, Lena said she is not conscious when trapped in time. We can leave her for a few minutes to take care of you.”_

_That wasn’t true. Lena had told Genji and McCree as much in secret. That meant Lena was out there, lost in a void of darkness, waiting to be rescued. Genji shook his head._

_“I will be fi-fine, Angela,” he assured, unable to stop the stutter as another spray of sparks shot from his chest. The doctor shot him a worried glance but kept working. The accelerator’s components had been temporarily set in a small box, as the metal case that held it had been rendered completely unusable._

_“Unfortunately, the front of the accelerator has disappeared with Lena, so the replacement parts should be barely enough to bring her back until we can rewire the harness to the emergency replacement parts.”_

_Genji nodded. “Will activating it bring her here?”_

_The doctor nodded. “It should activate one of her “blinks,” or something akin to that to transport her nearby. Once she’s stable, I’ll repair you.”_

_Hana felt another pang of Genji’s self-loathing at the word “repair.”_

_“Are we ready then?” Angela asked as she inserted a final piece into the small plastic box. Genji nodded, stiffly, ignoring the sparks spewing from his neck. Angela connected two wires as the mess of parts began to glow a vivid blue. The twosome waited tensely for ten seconds until a blue figure started flickering in and out of existence._

_“Tracer!” Dr Ziegler cried out as Lena rematerialized in the air, dropping to the ground like a rock as she hit the roof in a startled heap._

_“Genji! Did we stop Doomfist?” Tracer shouted immediately, lunging up as she grabbed his shoulders. Her gloves kept her safe from Genji’s sporadic sparking. Her eyes were wide with worry. “Are you okay? Is Winston okay?”_

_“Yes, Lena, all is well.” The cyborg promised, his voice warm. “Winston is quite popular with the people,” he added humorously. Hana could see the obvious relief in her eyes. Suddenly, Lena gasped, stiffening._

_“My harness? What in the…?” She spun around, nearly tangling herself in the wires Dr Ziegler had busily been attaching to Lena’s broken harness as she faced Genji._

_Dr Ziegler smiled sheepishly, picking up the plastic box and handing it to the girl, some of the wires straining at the length. Lena scooped it up, smiling widely. “Oh man, thanks! Sorry that I broke it…” she added sheepishly._

_“It is no problem. Now, Genji, it’s time to heal you.”_

_“I am fine, Doctor,” Genji denied futilely. “Lena, how are you?”_

_Tracer tipped her head curiously, then shook her head and beamed. “As long as Doomfist is done, I’m right as rain!”_

**_“She’s lying.”_ ** _Genji thought as Hana abruptly felt pulled away from the scene in front of her._

_…_

_Hana was back in the endless void. What just happened? What was that? Hana would have shuddered. It felt so **wrong** , not having control of her limbs. She felt like a trapped puppet being manipulated. And she heard Genji’s thoughts. It was hard to not feel like she was violating his privacy. Would that happen again? Is that what Lena spent one year of her life suffering through?_

_It was horrible. How could anyone stand a full year of that torment?_

_As Hana waited for something to happen, she couldn’t help but worry. Would she have to spend a year like this?_

_…_

Sombra nervously knocked on the door to Lena’s hospital room despite her throat still needing to recover. After a moment, the hacker pushed the door open, carrying a large case at her side.

“Hey, Girly,” Sombra greeted softly. Lena was already watching her, paying no attention to the movie in front of her. The HoloVid was propped on her left leg, as she was unable to prop it between her legs anymore. “So, I spoke with the doctors,” Sombra began as she sat down on the chair next to the bed, handing Lena a box with a generous amount of food stored in it. Lena started eating without hesitating, though her eyes were still blank and downcast. “They said you should be ready to begin training in about a week. You know, just to iron out any kinks that appeared during… Um… You know.”

Lena’s eyes flickered to Sombra then back to her food, her expression momentarily pained until she resumed her blank stare. “But the doctors did say you can talk a little now, though not too much, and you might have some trouble at first.”

Lena didn’t react, still watching Sombra while eating one of the sandwiches. She finished up the food in silence, passing the trash back to Sombra, who set it aside. “On that note, are you ready to remove the bandages? Lena stayed silent, yet she instinctively moved her hand to touch her neck, her eyes growing nervous. She never liked it when anybody messed with the bandages.

“Well, it looks like a yes to me,” Sombra joked, already reaching for the bandage on Lena’s right arm. The girl stiffened, looking ready to recoil. “Calm down, Lena. You’ll be fine.”

Sombra gently unwrapped the soft bandages as Lena watched, shivering.

“There we go… hey, they’re looking much better this time around!” Sombra complimented as she threw away the wrapping for the doctors to deal with later. It was true, barely. The long burn trailing down the entirety of Lena’s forearm had healed, though a nasty scar remained in its place, unlikely to improve.

“How does it feel?” the hacker asked, gently brushing her hand over the scar. The skin was rough and fragile like the smallest prick could undo any and all healing that had taken place in the past week. “Come on, try to talk,” Sombra urged, prompting Lena to open her mouth for an instant.

Lena struggled for a moment, unable to get her tired voice to work properly, but soon enough she was forming words. “It doesn’t…hurt…” the words were soft and strained, but they were words.

“That’s good!” Sombra cheered, moving on to the other arm. The process continued itself, Sombra gently unwrapping each ribbon of cloth. Her arms, remaining leg, and torso were permanently wrapped in red reminders of what Reaper had done to her. Medals of honour for surviving, if one was to ask Sombra. Tracer remained quiet through it all, stiffly waiting with her eyes squeezed shut.

“Alright. One more bandage to go,” Sombra encouraged as she set her hand on the wrapping on Lena’s neck.

Lena gasped, recoiling and nearly falling off the bed, her eyes wide and afraid, breathing heavy.

“Oh jeez…” Sombra sighed, setting her hand on Lena’s shoulder as the girl shivered violently.

“Come on, now… no need to be so upset.” It was an obvious lie. Lena Oxton had every reason to be mad and scared and sad after what the boss had done to her. It was painful to see someone that Sombra had once been able to banter with-slash-against in such emotional pain.

Sombra forced away the twinge of _guilt_ in her gut.

“Hey, hey, come on. I have no idea how to handle things like these!” Sombra joked, trying to calm the wounded soldier down.

“Sorry…” Lena muttered after several minutes of short, intense breaths as she lay her head against the wall.

“Ugh. I need to put a ban on the word ‘sorry.’ Now come on, let me take the bandages off, please?”

Lena obliged, remaining completely motionless as she held her breath. Sombra gently unwrapped the gauze on her neck. The collar had done a number on her. It was by far the most damaged part of her body, but it too was healing relatively well. A hideous burn scar still circled her, though. It was Lena’s inescapable collar now. A collar of scars.

“See? Not so bad. How do you feel?”

“Fine…” her voice was soft, and her breath hitched as she felt the rough skin. She bit her lip, desperate to force out the tears already cascading down her cheeks. Lena grabbed a bundle of the covers, holding them to her face to muffle her weeping.

“I miss home…” she muttered in between sobs. Sombra frowned. Part of her wanted to tell Lena about how Hana had activated the Toy. Maybe she would try to flee.

Instead, Sombra set her hand on Tracer’s shoulder, squeezing it gently.

“I know, Lena, but this is home for you now. You’ll get used to it eventually. Now come on! I know what will cheer you up!” Lena looked up, her cheeks stained with cheers, as Sombra set the case she had brought on the bed.

“Ta-dah!” she cheered, opening the suit and revealing a prosthetic leg. The metal was smooth and clean with violet fabric covering the joints. There were no separated toes, though the metal there would easily substitute. Wires poked out the top, ready to be attached to the prosthetic clasp.

Lena’s gaze flickered from the prosthetic to the clasp on her leg.

“Do you know how to put one on?” Lena shook her head.

Sombra nodded. “Okay then. Just swing your leg out, and I’ll put it on for you, for now.” Lena did as she was told, sitting on the side of the bed, motionless as Sombra attached a variety of wires to each other. Slowly, Lena regained feeling in her leg. Her knee. Her toes. When the last wire was fitted into place, Sombra secured the leg to the clasp with a satisfied grin.

“There we go! Try moving it!”

Lena began slowly, kicking the leg back and forth. The movements were fluid and smooth, the quiet hum of the machine matching her motion. Sombra watched her kick it back and forward a bit, testing all the joints with a downcast expression.

“I know it feels a bit lopsided, given the prosthetic isn’t too flexible around where the toes would be, but you’ll get used to it eventually.”

Lena nodded, looking up to Sombra for further instructions. “Alright then, ready to try walking?” Sombra was grateful Lena was finally off the IVs from the past while, because she immediately tried to force herself up, only to immediately stumble due to her weaker leg having not been properly exercised in a long time. Sombra hurried to catch her as Lena grabbed on to the hacker’s sleeve, using the woman as support to pull herself to a standing position.

Sweat was already forming on Lena’s head as she struggled to stand, her arms trembling violently. Slowly, Lena took a tentative step with her prosthetic, her blank expression making it hard to tell what she was feeling. Sombra couldn’t help but wish she was emote something other than sadness or nothingness.

Sombra couldn’t help but feel responsible as she led the girl around the room. At the end of the day, Sombra was the one to hack the Slipstream jet. No matter what anyone said, it was because Sombra had hacked the accelerator that Lena fled to Talon in the first place. As much as Sombra hated it, she had been the one to bring Lena to Talon. Sombra had made the Toy. Sombra is making the weapon Reaper requested. Sombra had helped to make the Sympathiser.

“Okay, that’s enough for right now,” Sombra announced, her heart not in it anymore. Lena was panting, still not able to hold herself up without assistance. Her muscles were weak from the underuse and damage from her treatment. She should be okay in a couple days, in that regard.

Hopefully, the Sympathiser would help, too, if Lena agreed to using it. There was no way to force her to use such a tool.

…

“Whaddya guys want?” McCree greeted curtly. It was sunset at Gibraltar. Genji and McCree sat by the cliffs. Genji was in his meditation pose as McCree smoked his cigar, blowing out a puff of smoke as Efi and Lúcio walked up to meet them.

“We have a problem…” Efi began nervously, fiddling with her fingers.

“That’s awfully vague.” McCree retorted snidely, barely looking at the child.

“It’s Hana,” Lúcio continued, watching the ocean ruefully. “The ‘Toy.’ She tore it off.”

McCree and Genji both looked up at this. “Pardon?”

“She was mad. She was so mad that she was being used against Lena. She thought if she took it off, Lena wouldn’t have a reason to stay there.”

“And it activated. She gave herself Chronal Disassociation,” Genji deduced, standing up calmly. “Have you told anyone else?”

“Not yet… Though Efi sent Orisa to explain what happened to Winston,” Lúcio admitted. We know he is going to freak. We wanted to ask your opinion on how to handle it, though.”

“Why us?” McCree asked, raising his eyebrow.

“Well, we heard you guys have known each other for a long time. We figured if anyone would know what to do about it, it’d be you two.”

Genji sighed, his robotic voice almost melodic. “There’s not much you can do. If she just pulled it off, she’ll be gone for several hours, most likely. After that, you’d best get her to the stabilisation chamber as soon as possible. It will make her less likely to fade through time. She won’t be able to touch anything or speak at all.”

“It ain’t gonna be good for her psychologically,” McCree continued, pinching the cigar between his index and middle finger. “Not bein’ able to communicate sucks.”

Efi nodded sadly. “Do we talk to her, or what…?”

“Definitely,” Genji answered. “Don’t patronise her by pretending nothing is wrong, but also try to avoid the topic of the condition for the time being.”

“What exactly happens when she’s gone?” Lúcio asked. “I heard the ghost thing, but…”

McCree winced. “She’s nowhere, and she knows it. She’ll be stuck in an endless void, fully aware but unable to do anything. Sometimes, she’s gonna dream. That’ll do the most damage to her. Lena kept those a secret from even us.”

“Dreams?”

“Yeah, except they’re real. Events that have happened or may happen. Her consciousness is transferred into a person there. She’ll hear their thoughts, move as them. Only sometimes even be self-aware. She’ll feel their pain, too,” Genji explained, carefully avoiding looking at the horrified twosome.

“That’s horrible…” Efi lamented. “She’s going to feel a pain that isn’t even her fault?”

“That about sums her up,” McCree finished, leaning against the rocky bluff as the ocean crashed into the rocks below. “The fool…”

“We need to find a way to tell Lena,” Genji mused, staring at the sea.

“Why would you do that?” Efi asked in shock. “That’d break her heart.”

“True,” McCree agreed. “But then she’ll have no reason to stay with Talon. It’ll be easier to get her back.”

“And now Lena’s sacrifice was for nothing…” Lúcio mourned, watching the cowboy and ninja sadly.

“Yeah. It was,” McCree affirmed. “It ain’t fair. It sucks, like a lot. But there’s nothin’ to be done about it.”

Genji nodded. “Hana did what she believed was right, as did Lena. All we can do is try to help them now.”

“It’s so not fair…” Efi sat on the grass, holding her head in her hands. “Lena didn’t deserve that punishment. She didn’t do anything wrong! Now she’s with the bad guys, and she went with them for nothing!”

“The world ain’t fair, Sweetheart,” McCree continued harshly. “That’s why there are us heroes. We make it fair.”

“That’s an ideal Lena held close to her heart.” Genji turned to Lúcio. “You guys cannot blame yourselves for this. Hana made her choice, and she must live with the consequences. All we can do is assist her in coping until we can find a way to make an accelerator.”

“Even if it was a stupid decision,” Efi grunted, crossing her arms.

“Yes. Even if it was a stupid decision.”

McCree exhaled another puff of smoke. “Try to be near her when she comes back. She’s gonna be scared. She’ll be confused. Don’t ask her about what her dreams were. Don’t talk about how she can’t talk. Just be a friend to her.”

Genji nodded. “A friend is what she’ll need most.”

Lúcio looked up. “Do electronics work in the stabilisation chamber?”

“Most of em, no. Unless it’s specially made to withstand intense electrical interference. That limits things to technology especially made for missions, or maybe communication HoloVids that have a lot of oomph to them.”

Lúcio hummed. “Communication HoloVids…? I think I have an idea then. Thanks, you guys.”

“’Course. Genji and I will be watchin’ for her, too. Now hurry along, Winston probably wants to hear what happened from y’all.”

Efi nodded. “Okay! Thank you, Mr McCree! See you around!” Efi skipped off, Lúcio following close behind, muttering something in the girl’s ear. When they were gone, McCree turned to Genji.

“I guess I’m pullin’ the book back out,” McCree almost laughed. “Never expected to need it again. Glad I kept the darn thing.”

“And I have a collection of hilarious stories of your ‘exploits’ I haven’t told her, still,” Genji teased, stretching despite not needing to as a cyborg.

McCree winced. “Yeesh. Can ya just go back to bein’ all dark and broody?”

“You wish,” Genji snorted.

The two were silent for several more seconds as they watched the waves of the water, the foamy spray shooting up several feet as the water hit the rocks.

“Do you really believe Lena is going to return to us once she knows about Hana?”

McCree sighed. “No, I don’t. They broke her. You saw Widowmaker. She’s barely human. Who knows what they’re gonna do to her body now?”

“Getting her back will be… challenging.”

McCree shrugged. “We’ve done harder before. I’ll die before I let Lena sit in Talon’s grasp. As for Hana… Guess we’re doin’ that same song n’ dance.”

“Lena would like that,” Genji agreed. “I wonder if Hana is dreaming now.”

…

_It was dark out as McCree sat at the end of the Swiss runway, overlooking the expansive forest. His grey cowboy hat lay beside McCree. He was alone, staring out at the trees. Gabriel had given McCree a day off to train for another mission. Naturally, McCree spent the time taking a smoke._

_“Who are ya?!” Jesse shouted, jumping to his feet and drawing Peacekeeper before he even consciously registered the soft footsteps in the grass behind him. It was Oxton, the girl chosen to test the Slipstream jet in a few days’ time. She was wearing a standard Swiss uniform, which included a white top with blue bottoms. “Tracer” was written on a patch over her heart. Her callsign._

_“Woah, Love, don’t worry, it’s just me, Lena Oxton! It’s Agent McCree, right?” the girl held up her hands, though she wasn’t actually afraid of McCree shooting. McCree huffed, putting away his gun as he turned away from the perky Brit. “What are you doing out here so late?”_

_“Good smoke spot,” McCree answered curtly, hoping the girl would leave him alone._

_Tracer strode up to him, standing all-too-close to his personal bubble as she looked into the trees next to him._

_“I don’t know. The runway doesn’t strike me as the best place to ‘have a smoke,’” she pressed, smirking. “Not to mention I see Agent Shimada here with you all the time, and he certainly doesn’t smoke.”_

_“And what are you doin’ here, pray tell?” Jesse snapped, trying to get the girl to go away._

_“Oh, just can’t sleep. I get to take the Slipstream up in the morning. Decided to take a walk, and I saw you around.”_

_“What? Ya nervous?” McCree asked sceptically. Tracer chuckled._

_“You bet I am! I know there’s nothing to worry about, but it’s still nerve-wracking!”_

_“Uhhh-huh.” McCree continued, hardly listening to the chatter._

_“So why **are** you here?” Tracer asked after a moment, fiddling with the Tracer patch on her chest. _

_“Like ya need to know.”_

_“I guess I don’t. But It’s not like you need to not tell me, either.”_

_“I doubt someone like you would understand.” Tracer quirked her eyebrow and cocked her head._

_“Someone like me?”_

_“Ya heard me. Someone who doesn’t even know what war is like won’t understand what an agent thinks or feels,” McCree snarled, still not looking at the Brit._

_She hummed. “I guess that’s true. But just because I don’t understand doesn’t mean I don’t want to help.”_

_“And what makes ya think I need help?”_

_“Well for one, you’re standing by the runway at eleven at night.”_

_McCree chuckled despite himself. “You really have no idea what I am, huh?” Oxton had no reason to associate herself with a murderer like him. Someone who has killed innocent people just for the heck of it._

_“I know a bit about the Deadlock and what they’ve done, but the info is pretty limited. You’ve got one heck of a bounty on your head, you know that?”_

_“So ya do know, and yet you’re not even afraid when I could shoot your guts out at the drop of my hat?”_

_This time it was Tracer’s turn to laugh. “Come on! If you wanted to kill me, I’d be dead now. Why should I care about what you’ve done? What matters is what you’re doing now, and that’s saving the world from the shadows, one mission at a time!” Tracer seemed almost excited, like she was talking about a comic book hero._

_“That’s certainly one way of lookin’ at an agent,” McCree admitted, watching the girl in interest. “But the world ain’t that kind. Heroes aren’t a thing. Just people like us doin’ our job.”_

_Oxton seemed amused. “That job is to save people. Sounds pretty close to a hero to me.”_

_“Ya know, ain’t heroes supposed to be on the moral up-and-up? What if a so-called “hero” isn’t?” McCree asked, almost curious as he watched Oxton ponder his question._

_“You said it yourself. I don’t know war. Who am I to judge someone that has struggled with something I cannot even begin to comprehend? Who am I to decide whether a hero has lost ‘the moral high ground?’ Who am I to judge a hero even if they have?” Jesse considered this. It was a naïve statement and far too idealistic for this screwed up world._

_“Maybe you’d wanna judge since it’ll come back to bite ya if ya don’t.”_

_“I know it will, but come on, now. I really have no right to judge someone if I haven’t been in their shoes now, right? Until I fully understand someone’s line of thinking, their struggles, or their fears, I’m not in any position to judge who they are as a person.”_

_“You could at least keep your guard up,” McCree continued, intrigued by the pilot’s line of thinking. No wonder the base had fallen for her so quickly, with optimism like that._

_“Oh, rubbish! Don’t be so callous! I have no reason to be wary around you. Benefit of the doubt and whatnot, you know? I need to give everyone a chance. Everyone deserves a chance, no matter what horrible things they might’ve done.” Tracer’s eyes seemed to sparkle in the moonlight as she slammed her fist on her palm. “And like it or not, you’re getting that second chance from me!”_

_Jesse raised an eyebrow. “Those kinds of ideals get you killed in a war.”_

_“Yeah, I know. But imagine how much happier the world would be if everyone got a second chance! That’s what I’ll do! I don’t care what you’ve done, or how badly you hurt me! If someone needs another chance, I’ll be the one to give it to them! And if I get hurt, or even killed, it’s my fault, and I’ll take the consequences with no regrets.”_

_Oxton had surprised Jesse, and that was hard to do. Someone so naïve and blind to the cruelty of the planet could form morals like that fairly quickly, but to say you’d lay down your life for the sake of a “second chance” with so much hope and determination in your heart?_

_McCree had to admit it was nice. It was a pity the world felt the need to beat that kind of hope out of people. Tracer knew the world had it in for people like her, yet she kept going. As Tracer stretched and yawned, he couldn’t help but wonder how long it would last._

_“Alright, all this talking has me beat. I think I’m going to hit the hay! I have to be up early for the big day tomorrow!”_

_“Do well,” McCree offered, surprising himself as Tracer beamed at him. She waved at him as she bounded off towards the distant lights of the base._

_Part of him hoped she didn’t need to lose that optimism._

_…_

_All at once, Hana felt herself returned the void, her memories and mind her own again. In a panic, she searched her memories as her squad, Lúcio, Efi, and everyone else came flooding back. She had turned into Jesse. She hadn’t even had her mind. Hana found the idea horrifying. Just like that, at complete random, she had lost any and all sense of identity, being shoved into a mind in which she had no business in snooping._

_Hana was relieved as her thoughts transitioned back to proper English and Korean, the memories of Jesse fading into obscurity. His thoughts during that dream remained vivid in Hana’s mind. She could still picture the thick growth of brush he had stared at, with the burn of tobacco in his lungs._

_Deadlock. That was a name that had faded from the news long ago. Hana hadn’t realised what a prominent role it played in everything Jesse thought. “How would they think of me knowing about Deadlock?” “How would Deadlock think of me knowing I’m in Blackwatch?” “What would Deadlock do here?” “Do I fight like a Deadlock or a Blackwatch?”_

_The cowboy hid it well under his calm and even witty demeanour. Hana couldn’t help but wonder if he still thought like that. It wouldn’t surprise her._

_And Tracer. That Tracer, from that dream, that was the real Lena Oxton. Not the thing on the HoloVid Reaper had shown. Hana wondered if Lena’s ideals could survive her torture. Hana wondered if Lena survived the torture at all, or if she was just a shell of a person._

_There wasn’t much else to do aside from wonder here._

_…_

Sombra was idly holding a fairly one-sided conversation with Lena when Reaper walked in. Lena seemed to know who it was before he even entered the room, maybe by the sound of his footsteps. She immediately tensed up, this being the first time she’d see him since her last “session” with him. Her eyes widened, and she grabbed the covers in a bundle, shivering as the door opened.

“Glad to see you’re recovering well, Oxton,” Reaper greeted. “I was never worried. You’re very resilient.”

Oxton was shaking like a leaf, refusing to meet Gabe’s eyes.

“Come on, Gabe. Let’s just get to the point,” Sombra begged, tired of seeing Lena in such a sorry state.

Reaper nodded, leaning against the wall. “Now, I was going to make you prove your loyalty, but I think you did that splendidly at the last base. You intercepted a shuriken from the cyborg meant for me. I was impressed, frankly.”

Lena watched him, shying away as he brushed a hair out of her face. “Now, in a few days’ time, you should be prepared to begin proper rehabilitation. We’ll put you in the training field until you’re ready, then it’ll be time for your first mission.”

Sombra rolled her eyes. “Gabe already made a uniform for you. He poured his heart and love into it.”

Reaper ignored her. “We are missing one thing, though.”

Lena waited, watching nervously.

“Your callsign. You’re not Tracer anymore.”

Sombra fiddled with her nails. “We’ve toyed with names like Scanner, Hourglass, even something like Venom or Jet. Decided we should leave it up to you.”

Lena narrowed her eyes, staring intently at the bed sheets.

“Do not feel the need to decide immediately, but by the time you’re sent to the training field, you’ll need on.” Reaper noticed how Lena watched him intently. “Unless you already have a call sign in mind?”

Lena nodded slowly, though remained silent, waiting for permission to speak.

“Then tell me, what is it?”

“Slipstream…” she muttered quietly. “Slipstream,” she said again with more power to her voice. “I want Slipstream to be my callsign.”

Sombra flinched in surprise. “You want to be named after the jet that did this to you?” she asked sceptically, gesturing to the pink, glowing harness by the bed.

“I think it’s fitting,” Reaper offered, his raspy voice smooth and melodic. “Agent Slipstream it is.”

Lena nodded, keeping her head down.

“And this Segway’s into the next thing,” Sombra began after several seconds of tense silence. “The way you are now, Talon question how prepared you are to go on missions. Emotionally, that is.”

Reaper stood up. “I will allow Sombra to explain.” He left without further fanfare as the hacker rolled her eyes. “Gabe the socially eloquent… Anyway, Le-Slipstream, Reaper and I have worked out something that may help you with keeping your emotions in check.”

Sombra pulled something out of a pocket on her coat. It was a small trinket, probably the size of a dime. It was flat and grey and completely featureless.

“We call this the Sympathiser, with a capital ‘S.’ The short version of what it does… It suppresses your emotions. More specifically, your negative ones, such as fear, sorrow, and guilt.”

“Like… Widowmaker?” Lena rasped, tilting her head.

“Not totally. Some of the technology is similar, but Widowmaker had all her emotions repressed in a way that is coded into her brain. This won’t be like that. This is going to suppress feelings of negativity when we want it to do so. We can change its effectiveness as well.”

“So…” Lena began, trying to understand. “If I have that in, you can control whether I’m in pain?”

Sombra nodded. “Emotional pain, that is. If we numbed the physical pain, your reaction time would suffer. All this device does is numb you to emotional pain. It won’t alter your memories in any way, shape, or form. You will still remember Overwatch, and you will still remember everything Talon has done to you, but these memories will no longer bring you pain.”

Lena nodded blankly, finally understanding.

“Now, we’re not forcing you to use this. In fact, I’d almost rather you not. However, this device is made to make things easier for you.”

“Use it,” Lena decided without hesitating. “It’s all too much. Please, give it to me.”

Sombra sighed. “You’re certain this is what you want?”

Lena nodded again, her gloomy eyes pleading for relief.

“One other thing,” Sombra added. “This thing is specially made. It cannot be surgically implanted or removed, since it will be directly inserted into your skull, in the layers of protection right next to your brain. It’s made to be mostly destabilised, much like you. This way, it will pose minimal risk to your health. This also means you must be still and let us put it on since you don’t sleep when destabilised, and that's the only way we can put it in such a precarious location. Likewise, if Overwatch were to try, they couldn’t take it out without your consent, given it’ll be in such a dangerous place to operate. So even if they drugged and nailed you to a hospital bed, they couldn’t remove it.”

“Okay…” Lena muttered, taking everything Sombra said into account. “Please… I still want it… When can I have it?”

Sombra sighed. “If you’re so sure this is what you want, we can apply it right now.”

“Please…” Lena begged, staring at the covers. “Just… I can’t live like this. Just make it go away.”

Sombra nodded slowly. “Okay. But again, you know that this means your emotions are going to be altered. You might not feel the same about anything. I’ll ask one more time. Agent Lena “Slipstream” Oxton, are you certain you wish to have the Sympathizer applied?”

Slipstream did not hesitate. “Yes. Use the sympathiser.”

Reaper took the liberty of re-entering, apparently having listened at the door. Lena jumped shying away.

“Wonderful. I’m glad to see you agree with our current arrangement. The doctors will be here soon. Within the next hour, you will truly and fully be Agent Slipstream.”


	22. Different

Chapter 22- Different

Without fanfare, Hana’s surroundings shifted. One instant, she was in the endless empty void. The next, she was back on her bed in her room. She flinched, startled at the surge of light and noise assaulting her senses. Hana felt wrong, she realised as she began to sit up. She felt light and fragile, like a gust of wind could carry her to who-knows-where.

“Hana! You’re back!” Lúcio cried, jolting upright. He had been hunched over, asleep, in Hana’s gaming chair. Hana smiled cheerily, putting what she had seen in the void of time out of her mind.

Hana opened her mouth to reply, only for her smile to freeze. She moved her mouth, and she felt her throat vibrate, but no sound left her lips. Hana blinked in confusion, reaching to touch her lips. That’s when she noticed her hand was transparent, flickering and glitching as Hana slowly turned her hand around. Her mouth was agape, and she started shaking. She realised why she felt so off.

Quickly, Hana grasped for a bundle of the covers. Instead of the fabric bundling in her grip like it should have, her hand closed on what felt like empty air, passing through the covers harmlessly. Hana jumped off the bed, recoiling her hand and squeezing her eyes shut, taking deep breaths that refused to fill her lungs with oxygen. It looked so **wrong,** seeing a part of a hand just disappear into something solid.

“Hana. Calm down.” Lúcio commanded, voice calm and even. “You’re okay. You're all right.”

Hana looked at him, desperate for answers.

The DJ sighed. “Come on, we have to get you to the stabilisation chamber quickly. First, though, I was told to take you to Lena’s room.”

Hana blinked in surprise, tilting her head in confusion as she levelled her breathing.

“Apparently, there’s some stuff in there you can interact with, and it’s not like Lena is going to be using that stuff anytime soon…” Lúcio trailed off awkwardly. Hana observed Lúcio. He was still yet antsy like he wanted to move and comfort her yet knew he couldn’t.

Hana took reluctant steps forward. It was hard to tell how to move. She could see herself move, but everything felt muted. Little sensations such as air brushing against her skin and the sting in her eyes of not blinking were painfully absent. Even as she inhaled, the feeling of her lungs expanding brought no relief.

Lúcio watched her with a sympathetic gaze as Hana closed her eyes and took a deep breath to calm herself. This wasn’t so horrible. She could live with this. Not that she had a choice… Yeah. This would be fine. This would be fine!

Hana put on a small smile and nodded to Lúcio, who chewed his lip before turning to leave Hana’s room, gesturing for her to follow. Lúcio began chattering idly as they walked, Hana following close behind. Her hair flowed behind her, ending in pink wisps of non-corporeal light that faded into nothing. Her skin had a similarly pinkish hue and glow to it, like there was a tinted spotlight on her. Lúcio turned to face her, walking backwards as Hana abruptly tuned back into what he was saying.

“So yeah. I took over the stream and told the viewers you got an injury while fighting and needed a bit of time to heal up. Though, absolutely nobody bought it, because _apparently_ , you’re infamous for streaming with all sorts of crazy battle wounds.” Lúcio grunted, teasing condescension. “Still not sure how you managed to play _StarCraft_ with a broken arm.”

Hana grinned in a weird, contradictory mix of shame and pride, rubbing the back of her head as Lúcio laughed. Her hair felt chilly and light, as though gravity didn’t affect it as much, each strand lingering longer than normal before swaying to her back.

“Anyway, we’re here. Winston said you can help yourself to her book collection and pyjamas since you look about the same size. Honestly, I’m a little surprised he’s so okay with us poking around her stuff, but I’m not one to look a gift horse in the mouth if that’s how the expression goes.”

Hana nodded absently as Lúcio pressed the button on the door labelled “Oxton,” the door sliding open with a quiet hum. The two of them stepped inside, peering around Tracer’s room. The bed was a mess, with the covers and pillows thrown about, one of which was on the other side of the chamber. The ground was littered with bits of coloured wood, plastic, and other craft materials. Model aeroplanes lay in shattered heaps on the ground, many of which were hardly recognisable as such. Hana experimentally reached for one of the fragments, a splintered red wing, but her hand passed through it uselessly. She frowned, gesturing to Lúcio.

“What? You couldn’t touch these? I guess these were given to her after the accelerator became a thing. It’s a shame… They look hand painted. Maybe we should try our hands at fixing them later when we’ve got your situation sorted out. Come on, let’s check the closet.”

Hana followed the DJ to the closet doors, which he swung open after an instance of reluctance at going through Lena’s possessions. It was far tidier than the room had been. Several hangers had Tracer’s signature uniform hanging from them. There looked to be half-a-dozen or so, all of them sporting various wear-and-tear, but overall in good condition still. Spares of her gauntlets and pistols also sat on a shelf, though some of the designs had slight differences, and one of the gauntlet pairs was blue. Several of the same pairs of shoes on the ground, though some were worn to a state of uselessness. Only a few of them were in some unique style. A black and orange outfit also hung from a hangar, and next to it was a blue and white one with a sailor-esque hat hanging on the top. The rail the hangers were on happened to be supported by the shelves with the gauntlets and guns, though the other side of the shelf had the most unusual items. They appeared to be chest plates of some sort, though none of them seemed protective, every one of them having a gaping hole in the front and back, and offered very little in the way of protection.

“Oh, those must’ve held her chronal accelerator. Weird. I always thought she only had the one. I think she just took the select pieces of it out and put it into different harnesses.” Lúcio shook his head. “Anyway, let’s just grab the pyjamas,” he said, gesturing to a pair of soft-looking, pale green pyjamas on one of the hangers. He reached out to pull them off, yelping as his hand phased through it.

“Holy hecking heck!” he cried in surprise as Hana snorted in amusement. “That looks _weird!_ ” He flipped his unblemished hand over, checking for injury. “What’s up with these? I thought people would be able to touch them.”

Hana squinted, staring at the outfits. They seemed normal at first glance, but after staring a bit harder, they appeared to flicker in the light, and ignore the shadows of a room, as if an artist drew the closet and forgot to shade the clothes. Tentatively, Hana reached out for the pyjamas, feeling the soft, cool fabric make contact with her hand. Hana straightened, and pulled the outfit off the hook, holding the soft fabric close, relishing in the slight sensation. The feeling was muted and dull, but it was there.

Hana held up the PJs to Lúcio with a bragging look, and he rolled his eyes in amusement. “Yeah yeah yeah, you can touch the pyjamas and I can’t. Well lucky for me, I get to touch everything else!” He shot her a glare of mock haughtiness, and Hana put her hand to her mouth, stifling a laugh. Lúcio face palmed, slouching against the door wall. “Okay, yeah… That sounded really bad. But you have enough context to know what I meant!”

Hana shook her head in amusement and gestured to a cardboard box on the floor of the closet. Slowly, Lúcio nodded and opened the box, peering inside.

“Oh hey! Books! All kinds of them!” he cheered, grabbing one of them and tossing it around in his hand. It was relatively thick and had highlighter and pencil marks on almost every page as Lúcio feathered through the pages. “It feels weird… The book that is. It’s like… Cold to the touch,” Lúcio mused, offering it to Hana. She experimentally tapped the page, feeling the crisp paper under her fingertips. She grinned, offering him a thumbs up.

“Alright! So, the stuff in here you can touch! We’ll just grab this box, then. I hope Lena won’t mind… We’ll return this stuff later.” Lúcio picked up the box, surprised at its weight as he stumbled for a moment, nearly falling as he began to laugh. “Didn’t realise books could weigh so much! Let’s get out of here fast, though. You probably don’t have long before you disappear.”

That got Hana’s attention. She stood up straight, stretching. She noticed, however, that as Lúcio had stumbled, he planted his foot directly into a destabilised book haphazardly tossed onto the ground, not even noticing. “I’ll carry the box. Come on, I’ll show you where the stabilisation chamber is.” Lúcio lugged the box out of the room.

When he turned away, Hana made a split-second decision and picked the book up. She un-rumpled its pages and tucked the small, unlabelled notebook between the pyjamas under her arm before trotting after the DJ as he resumed his idle chatter.

The stabilisation chamber was relatively close to the lab, Hana realised as Lúcio pointed out Efi’s lab a few doors away from the one labelled “Stabilization Chamber” in orange letters. The door slid open with a quiet hum at their presence, and Hana got a good look at the room she’d be spending the next who-knows-how-long in.

The walls were a dull grey, almost entirely concealed by tangles of wires that stretched across the floor. A large window on the other end of the room overlooked the ocean. The ceiling was the strangest part, covered with small protrusions that looked similar to what Hana had seen in the video Reaper took of Tracer, except they were smaller, more numerous, and appeared more slipshod.

“Oh! Hana! You’re back!” Efi called delightedly from within the room, her voice muffled. The sight was rather amusing, as the girl stood atop Orisa’s shoulders, a screwdriver in her mouth with Orisa holding several electronic components as the girl tinkered with some of the wires, somehow managing to maintain her balance.

Hana nodded silently and stepped into the room sheepishly. She felt the same.

“Oh, I was just messing with the engineering of this place. We don’t have the tech we need to fully stabilise you, but a little bit of rewiring, clean up, and changed parts should make it at least a little bit better!”  
Hana bobbed her head gratefully, making her way to the other end of the room, where she set the pyjamas with the book inside on the windowsill, Lúcio doing the same with the box of books.

“Okay! Let’s try this out!” Efi cheered, screwing a panel back one of the boxes of components. She jumped from Orisa’s shoulders, stumbling slightly as she landed.

“Efi, be more cautious!” Orisa scolded, righting the child as she giggled.

“I’m fine, thanks, Orisa!” Efi shouted as she ran to the other side of the room while Orisa picked up the screwdriver from the ground.

“Alright, Hana! Thumbs up if you feel this, thumbs down if you don’t.” Efi pressed a few buttons on one of the control panels, and the room hummed to life. The devices on the ceiling began to glow a dim, gentle pink, and Hana stiffened as she felt the energy on all sides. Saying she “felt” energy was the wrong word. It was more that she could sense it, as it washed over her, acting as a weak anchor to the world. Hana looked at her hand. It still flickered intermittently, yet it was more contained and slightly less transparent.  Hana gave a thumbs up.

“Awesome! This should make your fading a bit less frequent, at least until we can scrape together a new harness. Winston supposedly used most of the parts on a temporary harness he made for Lena a while back, and we don’t have much funding. I couldn’t ask for grant money from Numbani, either, since your condition is top secret or something.”

Hana nodded absently, barely listening to the girl’s rant.

“Efi, I think Hana tuned you out,” he joked, elbowing the girl as she began listing the required components to make a new harness. Efi blushed.

“Sorry,” she said with a sheepish smile. “Force of habit. Say, what do you plan on doing concerning your stream? Are you going to keep hiding it from your fans? Even if you did still stream, only Omnics and extremely durable electronics made for militant use could function properly in this place. Videogames would break in no time.”

Hana shrugged concomitantly. There were bigger things to worry about than a livestream.

“I got the stream thing under control, though they might be left hanging for a while.”

Efi lit up. “Maybe, when Hana has a bit more time, we can livestream with her and raise money for a new accelerator!” Hana tipped her head. It was an interesting idea.

“Hmm. I guess we could, but there are a bunch of things we’d want to keep on the down-low. Like Tracer. People would ask questions.”

“The whole internet has been blowing up since Reaper released that video. People will probably figure out sooner or later.”

Lúcio fiddled with his shirt thoughtfully. “I guess I could run it by Winston later. What will we do, though? Hana can’t use a controller.”

“What about some of those antiquated motion control games? The ones that can see your whole body and uses those as the controls,” Orisa suggested from Efi’s side. “I believe one of those consoles would be relatively easy to import.”

“Yeah! This’ll be great! We’ll have the money to make a harness in no time!” Efi cheered as she began listing familiar games, while Lúcio chattered about the format of the stream. Hana listened intently, nodding or shaking her head when they asked for her opinion. She enjoyed herself.

The twosome stayed for as long as possible, only leaving when a need for sleep called them away as dawn began to peek over the horizon. Orisa pulled Efi away first, who rode Orisa to her room reluctantly. Hana and Lúcio remained as the room lapsed into a comfortable silence, listening to the hum of the stabilisers above.

“How are you doing?” Lúcio asked after a while. Hana smiled and nodded to him. The DJ sighed.

“I’m sorry this had to happen to you. I know it must suck.”

Hana shrugged, looking out the window as the light began to poke over the waters. She didn’t feel tired in the slightest. She pointed to the spot on her neck where the “Toy” had been.

“I mean, I know you took it off intentionally, but still…”

Hana waved him off. He frowned.

“Just… If you ever need to talk… I mean, I know you can’t right now, but if you ever can and want to, I’m here.”

Hana chuckled silently and nodded gratefully. Lúcio yawned. “I think I need to go get some sleep now. I’ll run the stream thing by Winston when I wake up.”

Hana nodded, looking out the window. A feeling of dread filled her. It had been roughly sixteen hours. How long would the stabilisation chamber hold her before she faded again? What would she see when it inevitably happened?

Lúcio must’ve noticed her expression. “Hey, don’t worry, Hana. We’ll figure something out. Promise.”

Hana nodded again, suddenly aware of a tear dripping down her cheek. “I know,” she mouthed. Lúcio left, and Hana sighed silently as she changed into the pyjamas, the book tumbling onto the platform. Cautiously, Hana opened the notebook. The very first words were “Dear Diary.” Despite the twinge of guilt in her gut, Hana flipped through the pages. She needed to know. She needed to know how Tracer got through her condition. The penmanship was a neat cursive, which was somewhat difficult to read given English wasn’t Hana’s first language, but still. Hana read.

…

Sombra watched the scene with a mixture of indifference and boredom from Athena’s cameras as Lúcio left Hana alone in the room. That makes two people she has condemned to that Hell. Maybe she’d get a medal soon, because it was some sort of record, surely. Song seemed to be holding up alright so far. No telling how long that would last, though.

Sombra flipped between Athena’s cameras, looking for anything notable. Winston was trying to make a new chronal accelerator as well as deal with paperwork and calls from the UK. Fareeha was in there as well, assisting him.

Symmetra was in her lab working on some sort of hard-light device, while Torbjörn did repairs on the e54 Bastion unit. Several other agents were currently asleep, though Dr Ziegler was doing last minute checkups on Mei, who planned on leaving for a meeting with the UK regarding the information they got from Ecopoint Antarctica. Junkrat and Roadhog were currently sleeping, and so was Amari. Morrison was in the practice range.

Overall, Sombra concluded nothing exciting was going on, and she decided she could always check Athena’s files later for anything interesting. Sombra stretched and reached for a nearby water bottle, taking a quick swig before flicking over to another tab, where she idly checked some of the code for some more of Slipstream’s hardware. The Sympathizer would be ready as soon as the implant was finished, and the prosthetic was operating perfectly fine. The harness could potentially be optimised, but Reaper was against extending the battery life by too much, just to make sure Slipstream still felt the need to return to Talon.

Her HoloVid buzzed, and Sombra noticed it was an alert from one of the surgeons.

**To Agent Sombra:**

**Your immediate presence is required in hospital room 402, the patient is ready to see visitors.**

Sombra sighed, turning her PC off. It was finally done. If the device was working properly, Reaper and any other Talon officials should have full control over whether it was activated or not. Naturally, Sombra had access to it as well, and there wasn’t much Reaper could do to prevent that, so he allowed it so a. He’d be getting a full report on the level of effect and uptime of the sympathiser, mostly to make sure it functioned properly.

Sombra began the walk over to the medical wing, ignoring the raised eyebrows from those who she passed. Most knew her, but some still found her attire peculiar. Sombra found that fact ironic, given most Talon members had to dress in all-black.

She really should set up translocators at every main area she went. It’d save her a bit of travel time. Though that sick feeling from using them was annoying, but the dizzy spells were farther and fewer between. It was likely her system was building up a resistance to the technology. It was surprising Oxton managed to survive such a sudden readjustment with such a volatile piece of technology in such close proximity.

Sombra didn’t bother knocking on the hospital door before letting herself in. Inside, Reaper stood next to one of the doctors, who gave him a full report. The other two were checking Slipstream’s system for anything wrong. Lena herself was sitting motionlessly on the bed, though she was a far cry from the shivering mess she had been before the surgery. Her demeanour was calm, even bored as she silently watched Reaper with no traces of fear. Her eyes were even more different than her attitude.

Oxton’s eyes, which were once a deep, chocolate brown, were now a neon pink, letting out a dim glow. It looked downright supernatural, as the shining irises focused on Sombra, then flicked back to Reaper in respectful silence.

“Alright Gabe, what’s this about?” Sombra asked in a bored tone, leaning against the wall as she fiddled with her nails.

“Ah, Sombra. You’ve arrived,” he announced, waving the doctors out of the room, who all left in a rather large hurry at the order of the ghost.

“So, Slipstream,” Reaper began, directing his gaze to the bedridden agent. She turned to him, looking impatient but still not speaking. “How do you feel?”

Oxton finally opened her mouth to speak, and her words were quick, though still with the underlying rasp due to not having fully recovered yet. “Oh, I’m peachy. Head hurts like hell, but whatever. I betcha I could hold my own!”

Reaper quirked his head. “Oh? How about we test that?”

It was only when Slipstream nodded and threw off her covers that Sombra noticed she wasn’t attached to any IV drips.

“Gabe! Is she not on pain medication!?”

“Don’t need it,” Slipstream waved off with a grin. “I can take it. Let’s go!”

“That’s not how pain works…” Sombra muttered in horror. “You just had major head surgery, and were still recuperating from...” Sombra trailed off, realising the full impact of the sympathiser.

“What? From torture? Yeah, that was my bad. But this isn’t ‘pity Slipstream’ day. Let me go shoot some stuff! I can pretend the bots are Reaper’s face!”

Sombra raised her eyebrows, looking at Gabe, who chuckled in amusement. “Very well. Sombra, fetch Slipstream’s new outfit, will you?”

Then Slipstream did something really odd. She giggled, soft and mirthful. It was downright unsettling, as she found humour where Sombra saw none.

“Ooh! Fetch! Can that be, like, a code word for some sort of command? I mean, now that I’m supposed to be the dark and broody one with that tragic backstory, it seems like a fun, ironic twist, no? What with the whole ‘pet’ thing you were so on about in my old crib.”

Reaper held up his hand to cut Slipstream off, and she instantly silenced herself, averting her gaze before she even seemed to process what was going on. Her expression went neutral as she waited for his commands.

“There will be plenty of time to discuss that later. For now, we’ll get your combat outfit to make sure it is to your liking.”

Slipstream stretched and nodded, hopping off the bed without a second thought. Sombra watched as she staggered for an instance, before righting herself with a grin. Sombra pursed her lips. “The doctors estimated at least another week of recovery if you pushed it. This is _so_ not the best idea.”

Slipstream shrugged carelessly as she shifted her weight to her leg and prosthetic, waiting for orders.

“Slipstream says she is ready. We will let her test her mettle. First, though, let’s go to her living quarters.”

Reaper gestured for Slipstream to follow, who had nothing to wear, save the hospital gown and a pair of generic slippers. She only had the one slipper on, though, as the prosthetic had been made slightly longer than her regular leg to account for wearing a shoe on her left foot. Overall, she was looking far healthier. The scars on her limbs and neck were as painfully visible as ever, and the girl still desperately needed a shower, but her skin was a sensitive pink instead of the cherry red it once was. She had begun to regain some body mass after the starvation she endured, though her stomach still caved inward, scarred and skinny. Despite this, Oxton was far from the wiry frame she had been earlier.

Sombra grabbed the chronal accelerator that had remained on the floor in a charging station, holding the charger under her arm and swinging the harness over her shoulder. She waved Slipstream to follow her as Reaper slid out of the room.

“Meet me in the training field when Slipstream is accommodated,” he ordered before slithering off in a cloudy wisp past several tense doctors.

There was a certain pep in Slipstream’s step as she followed her superiors out of the hospital room.

Sombra sighed as she began the walk to Lena’s room. “You can talk now, Oxton.”

It was as though a dam broke as words began tumbling from Lena’s lips. “Man! That guy does **not** want to crack a smile, does he? I mean, other than evil villainous smirks, that is!”

Sombra chuckled, tipping her head back to look at Slipstream, who didn’t seem bothered by her injuries. “Reaper wears a mask. How can you tell what he’s doing with his face?”

Slipstream rolled her vivid pink eyes. “Not like he _literally_ smirks, but you can hear it in his voice. I became _very_ familiar with his favourite tones of voice.” She barked a laugh at her own joke. “I mean, he tries waaaay too hard with the villain thing! My new mission in life is to make him sound annoyed or sad or confused or something other than the ‘one-step-ahead-of-you-I’m-the-all-knowing-master-edgelord’ tone he always has!”

“What would that even sound like?” Sombra asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, you know!” She lowered her voice, letting her voice rasp. “Blah blah blah, you’re gonna listen to me, blah blah blah do not speak, my pet, now run back and forth, my pet.” She grinned at Sombra. “You know! Like that!”

“I’m… surprised you’re so okay with talking about what he did,” Sombra admitted, shifting the harness to her other arm. It was surprisingly heavy.

“I mean, you just put a sympa-whatchamacallit-thingamabob in my head to keep me from breaking down on a daily basis, so don’t act so surprised.”

Sombra shrugged. “Fair enough. You’re feeling alright, though?”  
Slipstream nodded, holding her hands behind her head. “I’ve only had, what? Three surgeries in the past two weeks? I’m fairly sure the entire point of all of them was to make me feel better, so.”

“That’s not what I asked. Regardless, we’re here.” Sombra pressed a few buttons on the door marked ‘Slipstream,’ as it opened with a quiet hum. “Your room is right across the hall from mine. Gabe wanted to make sure I could be nearby in case any of your chronal tech acted up. She noticed Slipstreams incredulous stare. “What? Are you surprised?”

“Honestly? Yeah. I was expecting something way less… lavish? Homey? Anything resembling **not** resembling my old room?”

“That wasn’t your room,” Sombra began to protest, before cutting herself off. “Ah, you know what? Never mind.”

And it was a fairly nice room. There was a single bed in the corner with a soft comforter and blanket, a pastel blue wall with grey carpeting, a nightstand, a lamp, a digital clock, a closet, a bathroom, and anything else you might picture in a standard hotel room. The standard military items were there too, such as an intercom, a weapon’s safe, though nobody ever used those, and a standard Talon uniform, though Slipstream would never be required to wear that.

The main differences setting the room apart as “Slipstream’s room” was the miniature stabilisers in the walls and ceiling that began to glow pink as soon as room detected the chronal signature of Oxton and her harness.

“Woah… this whole room is like one big stabilisation chamber, huh? Does this one _actually work?_ And I mean _work_ work, not ‘kinda sort make disappearing happen a little less often’ work.”

Sombra nodded, rolling her eyes. “It was downright stupid of that monkey to not upgrade it for you.”

“Finally! Yes! Someone says it!” Slipstream cheered, pumping a fist. “Overwatch is full of idiots if we’re both being honest.”

“Yeah! After all, that’s where you came from!” Sombra jabbed as Lena poked and prodded around the room.

“I’d say you’re wrong, but I’d be lying,” Slipstream giggled as she peeked into the bathroom, spotting the shower with all sorts of temperature settings and a surplus of toiletries. “Holy hell! That’s a bathroom alright! Lordy, a shower sounds bloody fantastic!”

“Well, you can take one after I show you this thingy Reaper had installed,” Sombra called, and Slipstream hurried over, peering at what Sombra pointed out. Mounted on the wall was a charger for the accelerator.

“See this thingy? It’ll hold your harness and charge it at a pretty decent speed if I do say so myself. It’s kinda weird though, see?” Sombra held the harness up to the charging port, and wires immediately snaked out to catch the plugs of the harness, then pulling themselves taut as the harness was yanked against the port, where it was firmly suspended.

“Don’t ask me why Gabe had this installed. I don’t understand half of what he does.”

Slipstream looked at it intently. “How do you release the harness?”

“Oh, that’s easy.” Sombra pressed a button on the port, and the harness immediately snapped loose.

“I can see the utility,” Slipstream began. “I mean, he could pin me to the wall like that if I ever decide to misbehave, for instance,” she giggled again. “Isn’t that a mental image and a half?”

Sombra chuckled with Slipstream, but it was an uneasy laugh. “R-right. Anyway, go shower. You smell horrible. I’ll show you your uniform after.” Sombra re-mounted the harness.

“Not like I had soap earlier, don’t blame me!”

“Who said I was?” Sombra threw up her hands defensively as she sat on Lena’s bed to wait. “Now get in the shower. Your hair looks better when spiky.”

“Hah! For once we agree!” Slipstream grinned and bounded into the bathroom as Sombra waited.

Second thoughts began bombarding the hacker. Slipstream didn’t seem like such a good idea anymore. Regardless, Lena wasn’t a super sad-sack anymore, so that was good. Sombra wondered how Slipstream would fare on her first mission. Going to attack Watchpoint: Gibraltar didn’t seem like a smart first mission for the former Overwatch agent, but Reaper had insisted. If one thing was certain, it was that seeing Lena as she was would hurt Overwatch way more than any battle wound, and that was exactly what Reaper wanted.

Lena came out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel twenty minutes later, looking considerably better.

“Alright! I’m ready to see this legendary uniform you guys keep building up! The suspense is killing me!”

Sombra rolled her eyes, gesturing to a drawer with underwear, bras, and socks in it. “Those first. I’ll grab the uniform.” As Lena did what she was told, Sombra grabbed the outfit off the hanger in the closet, holding up for Lena to see once she was done.

“Woah! That looks epic! Let me try that on! Nice and edgy, though I’m glad you didn’t go for the black and red cliché.”

Sombra rolled her eyes. “Trust me. Gabriel wanted to. I suggested pink instead.”

“Then I guess I owe you for that one!”

“Now come on. Try this on. You have quite the schedule ahead of you.”

…

**Dear Diary:**

**It’s been ten months since the crash. I wonder if I’m going to run out of pages in this thing before I’m back to normal. Who knows? Anyway, dream talk time.**

**It was a weird one. Everything was foggy and strange and jumbled. It’s hard to remember more than basic details, but here’s what I do recall.**

**Everything was pink, everywhere the person looked. Like everything was tinted a neon pink. They moved fast, like super unbelievably fast. There was blood, too. Lots of it. I mean, I’m kind of used to blood at this point, but it was like splashing blood and oil everywhere.**

**I was conscious in that dream, but all the person’s thoughts were a jumbled mess, and I can’t clearly remember anything. Their mind moved at a mile a minute, and they would be halfway through a thought before moving on to another. I do remember key words, though. “Reaper, order, kill, and silence,” often cycled through their thoughts without much consideration put into them. I also remember feeling… happy. Really happy. Everything was happy in there, in a weird way. Like it felt as though it was a dream, and not just me dreaming, but almost a dream within a dream. Then there was a flash of more pink light, as in a softer, gentler one, and the person took off after that light as they ran. It was hard to tell what was going on.**

**The person was in pain, too. A ton of it, but the pain was just… funny. I don’t know why. We ran, and I remember the sounds of guns firing and blurring colours. The last thing I can recall, though, was all the colours snapping back to normal. Then everything hurt so, so badly, and I went back to the void.**

**The dream was weird, and I can only imagine who it might be. Regardless, I don’t really care too much anymore. Sure, the dreams absolutely suck, but at least I know I’m not alone when I wake up. Winston comes by the chamber all the time, and Genji and Jesse spend most of their free time here as well. Honestly, they’re what’s getting me through this. They’re both fairly talkative once you get to know them, but they also know how to just… understand. They’ve both had some really hard times, I know that. I understand that. They’ve both done horrible things, but honestly? They’re both amazing people. Maybe I’m just biased since I haven’t exactly seen a ton of people lately, but I’m so lucky I know them.**

**Though, Genji has not been doing well lately. He’s angrier with his brother, Angela, and himself for what happened to him. I want to help him so badly, but I don’t know how. He’s mad at the world, at everything, and while he still comes by, he’s spending almost too much time in here. He’s training less, only leaving the room when ordered to do so, most often. He also leaves when Dr Ziegler comes in. He’s even in here when I’m faded, from what I’ve heard. I don’t know how to help him myself. Figuring out how to help him will be one of the first things I do once I’m out of this room, though! Just you watch!**

**Jesse has finally been doing better though, since the loss of his arm. At first, he whined a lot about how annoying it was to use, but after a while, he’s gotten the hang of it! Prosthetics must suck. He said feeling in that arm, while still a thing, is significantly muted like it’s through a blanket or something. Can’t be worse than no touch, though, right?**

**I’d let myself be decked out in cybernetics if it meant being able to feel things for myself again. Though I say that, but if given the option, it might be a more difficult choice. Thankfully, I don’t see how I’d ever need full on cybernetics, there will probably be some tech involved with getting me back to normal. Whatever it takes, is what I say. I’m lucky nobody’s given up on me yet. All this time, I’ve thought I’ve been miserable in this chamber, but when I look back at it, while it wasn’t exactly a party, it could be a lot worse.**

**Well, I think Genji just got back from a mission and is here to brood again. Until next time, journal. Thanks again for listening.**

**-Lena**


	23. Agent Slipstream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heya dudes! Quick note here, this chapter talks about Lúcio a bit, and given it is confirmed by the devs that he does not have prosthetics, yet his legs look strangely deformed, I'm going off the headcanon that he has a robotic exoskeleton on the lower half of his body that the skates attach to. If this is proven false, I will change the chapter as necessary.

_ Chapter 23: Agent Slipstream _

“What do you want, Vishkar?” Lúcio grunted coldly as the woman stood in his doorway. He was currently at his computer, working out the details for the stream they had planned. Some jazz music was playing over his speakers, which he turned down as he spun his chair around to greet the Vishkar employee.

Efi was absent, likely with Winston or in her lab, as, when Lúcio last checked, Hana had assured him she would be okay while he got some work done via various shooing hand gestures, so he had gotten to work on whatever he could in hopes passing the time.

“I wished to discuss some important matters with you, Agent dos Santos,” she began, her face incredibly neutral.

“I’m kinda busy here, so make it snappy, Ice Queen,” Lúcio snarled, turning back to his computer screen.  “Is this about my tech? Sorry, I’m not giving it back anytime soon.”

“No, it is not.”

“Then get to it already,” Lúcio sighed, flipping between chat clients and browser pages.

“I wish to discuss your treatment in Vishkar custody,” she admitted after a moment’s hesitation. Lúcio froze, turning to look at the woman.

“Oh, so now you care about what they do to people? What planet were you on when your kind were _brainwashing_ my people and forcing them to be your slaves?”

Symmetra straightened, narrowing her eyes. “Vishkar did no such thing.”

Lúcio barked a laugh. “Really? You really believe that?” He reached over to his dresser, where his sonic amplifier was charging. He unplugged it and tossed it to the woman. Satya jumped, but caught it, seemingly on reflex. “What do you think that is?”

Symmetra studied the weapon for a moment. “It is a repurposed sonic amplifier, which used specialised soundwaves on those Vishkar held in custody to confess what we needed to know humanely and painlessly. This one appears to have a weakened amplifier, though.”

Lúcio nodded. “And do you know where I got this? Let me tell you. I got this off one of your ‘employers’ in Rio de Janeiro.”

Symmetra glared. “Are you implying this item was used to influence civilians?”

“Oh, would you look at that? The ice queen has a brain! Yeah. That is exactly what they were doing. They’d use those things and sweet talk everyone into doing their manual labour while they sat back and watched. I only got past the handler’s amplifier because of some headphones, which, for the record, were strictly forbidden. Then I mugged them for it, and managed to repurpose mine with some music as a counter.”

Symmetra listened to his story with a carefully neutral expression as she handed the weapon back to him, knowing she had no way to take it from him forcefully.

“After that, it was a matter of getting together as many people together as possible and pushing back against you guys. All we did was start with a revolt, it wasn’t even meant to be bad. It was crazy, how fast you moved to violence.” Lúcio gestured to the blue robotic exoskeleton on his legs, which covered more of his legs than it left exposed. Most of it was near the knee joint, completely concealing that area of his skin. “Why do you think I wear these?”

Symmetra thought for a moment. “I had assumed it was for the sake of efficiency when equipping your skates, given only primary pieces of the gear would need to be attached to the exoskeleton.”

“If only, right? No, I wear these because of Vishkar and your fancy hard-light weapons. It chewed right through most of the joints in my knee and damaged the rest of my legs. I wasn’t the only one, either. We were there, protesting… and suddenly people were being killed.” A shadow passed over Lúcio’s expression. “I lost a bunch of friends then. I lost even more when we finally fought back. I sneaked into Vishkar as soon as I had scraped together some leg supports. I got the hard-light skates, and my city and I fought to drive you scum out.”

Lúcio turned away from her, setting his Sonic Amplifier back on its charger. Symmetra hesitated. “If this is true, I would have heard of it. I was stationed in Rio de Janeiro for a substantial portion of time. I did not get moved until four years ago.”

“What, do you not go on the Internet? It must’ve happened right after you left.”

“I have better things to do with my time than browsing your… ‘memes’ on pointless social platforms,” she retorted, making Lúcio snort.

“Then try the news every once in a while.” Lúcio opened a new browser page and began typing. He ushered Satya over, who obeyed after a moment and read the headline of the article Lúcio pulled up. **“Vishkar accused of attacking civilians during a protest.”**

“This is false,” Symmetra denied, more to herself than Lúcio. “I would have been told of this.”

“Really now? Why would Vishkar share anything with you, a field agent? They have no reason to share anything they don’t want you knowing.”

That must’ve bothered Symmetra because she averted her gaze pensively for a moment. “I avoid utilising lethal means in the battle whenever possible, I hope you realise.”

“For once we agree on something,” Lúcio nodded approvingly. “However, Vishkar sure doesn’t share that mercy. Like it or not, your people are cold-blooded killers.”

“Vishkar has good intentions. Houses will be built for the poor, and we will improve their lives.”

Lúcio sighed and switched over to a chat client, typing to an old friend from Rio de Janeiro.

“And how many houses do you think they managed to build in four years? Want to see? A buddy of mine just sent a picture showing us.”

Symmetra stared at the image Lúcio showed for a long while as her face slowly contorted into that of horror. Houses were crumbling and far from maintained children were huddled together with adults that didn’t appear related, there were no Omnics to be seen, and everyone was filthy and unkempt, wearing drab. And yet, despite this, everyone seemed… calm. It was a crowd of people surrounding the taker of the photo, all of them displaying uncanny serenity.

“See this? A buddy of mine acts as my agent there, as it were. He serves as the messenger between Rio de Janeiro and I, And this is the message he could send.”

Symmetra looked up to Lúcio, her eyes had softened. “I see. Thank you for this information. I will bring this information to Vishkar, and see to it that they develop homes as they promised.”

Lúcio shook his head. “You still don’t get it, do you… Vishkar doesn’t **care** about civilians! They just care about their own _empire_ , or whatever the hell they want to build.

Shaking her head in denial, Satya folded her hands behind her back. “Vishkar does care about civilian lives. This branch must have stepped out of line.”

“No. Vishkar does not care. Do you know where they held me captive?”

Satya waited for him to answer.

“Numbani. Do you know there were also casualties there?”

“Overwatch stepped in there. It is only natural it would prompt a reaction.”

“We both know Overwatch does not skip to violence if they can avoid it. They were creating a diversion to rescue me, not pick a fight. Why would they try to create tension, given the strained relationship between them and the public? It makes no sense. Vishkar struck first.”

“A single employee is not representative as Vishkar as a whole. They were acting out of line, in which case, I will see to their dismissal from their position.”

“Well that’s a lot of out of line employees. I know I saw a few from within my cell. And thus, it all comes full circle. Want to know what your ‘ahead of the times, advanced company’ does to prisoners who spent weeks training to resist their brainwash tech?”

Lúcio turned around, showing his back to Satya. He then pulled up his shirt, revealing his bare back. It was littered with scars, bright patches of bulging skin that was red and agitated, covering the entirety of his back.

“Oh, and just in case you think this wasn’t Vishkar, just ask the doctor. They were fresh when they got me out of there.”

Symmetra stared, her mouth falling over as her hands fell limp to her sides. She took a stuttering step back, her eyes wide. “That… I… I must leave,” she muttered, making a heel-to-face turn to leave.

“No, you’re not going anywhere.” Lúcio grabbed her by the wrist, and Symmetra tensed, tugging out of his grasp. “You don’t get to waltz in here and leave on your high horse.”

“I insist you release me!” Symmetra ordered, freeing herself from Lúcio’s grasp and rushing out of the room, her head down.

Lúcio watched her go before sighing and turning around, not sure what to think. Clearly Vaswani was upset by what Lúcio had to say, and she seemed deeply affected enough, but it didn’t excuse Vishkar as a whole. Lúcio shook his head and closed out of his tabs.

Stretching, Lúcio grabbed his skates snapped them on. He then slid on his wall glove before getting his sonic amplifier. Reluctantly, Lúcio grabbed his soundpack, ignoring the sting of his wounds as he put it on. He was overdue for some practice.

With smooth strides, Lúcio glided over to the training field. After a bit of exercise, he would talk with Winston, then check on Hana.

…

If there was one person Soldier 76 didn’t expect to see in the training field, it was the roller blading DJ. At first, Morrison only greeted him with a nod of approval as the man put in his settings for Athena’s bots. The surprise came when he heard the kid put the difficulty at maximum, set on survival mode to see how long he could last under an onslaught.

Stepping back, Morrison watched the DJ on his end of the field as he began riding the walls and weaving in between the various bots, sliding under and past them on autopilot, grabbing the wall to skate away and jump off before the trackers could figure out his pattern.

Soon, though, Lúcio began to exert himself, making several strained jumps and twists to avoid fire from the bots, sweeping around in wide circles, even flipping off the wall at one point. His expression was incredibly neutral as he ran. Things finally went south when one of the bots landed a shot on his shoulder as he tried to roll away, and while the shots themselves were harmless, they were made to cause enough pain to be distracting. Lúcio grunted, his brow furrowing, stumbling as the bots descended on him, and he began to fight back, pulling out his sonic amplifier to ward them off, knocking them backwards, only for more to return.

Lúcio growled and skated up a nearby wall. He launched off it, kicking one of the bots to the ground with a cry of fury. He fired into the head of the robot, ignoring the other bots as he roared, completely destroying the head of the robot. The other robots began ascending upon him with a rain of bullets, and Lúcio grunted in pain as they shot him.

“Athena, cut the simulation,” Morrison ordered as Athena immediately stopped the bots, and Lúcio flopped onto the ground, panting. The energy bullets caused some minor burns, but other than that, he was unharmed.

“Your form is good,” Soldier commented, helping the man up. Lúcio took his hand, pulling himself up after sliding on his skates a bit. “Make sure you keep your cool, though. In real combat, that fit would have cost you your life.”

Lúcio sighed. “Yes, sir. I know. I just needed to vent.”

Soldier huffed. “I know the feeling. I suggest the sandbags for that. You're more prone to a sprained ankle or something when using the simulator.”

Lúcio rubbed his temples. “I guess so. How are you doing though, Sir? About the whole Tracer and Hana thing?”

Jack responded calmly. “Overwatch will take a massive blow once it goes public, and several of our agents are not in optimal mental condition thanks to this.”

Lúcio huffed. “I know Hana and I will be able to maintain public favour, but, how are _you?_ ”

“Oxton was a good kid. A little too much so for her own well-being,” Morrison sighed, handing Lúcio a water bottle. “And Hana is way too young for all this stuff. It sucks, but it’s life. Even if we were to get Oxton back, there’s no way she’d just go back to the person we know. PTSD doesn’t take long to sit in, but once it’s there, be prepared to have it for a while.”

“You think that mess did that to her?”

Soldier 76 nodded. “No doubt in my mind. I’m honestly amazed Reyes would do that to her. I don’t know what he wants her to do in that kind of mental state. I would expect a situation similar to Widowmaker.”

“What _is_ Widowmaker’s story? She’s the blue sniper, right?”

Morrison nodded. “She was the spouse of a high-ranking official. Talon captured and brainwashed her. She was then returned to us, we didn’t expect a thing. Then she killed her husband.”

“So, you think they’re going to brainwash Tracer?” Lúcio asked, taking a swig of the drink.

“No. That doesn’t make sense. Widowmaker had no sign of injury or abuse when she was returned to us, so we know Talon is capable of conversion without the means of blatant violence. Widowmaker was pristine as ever, yet Lena is going to have scars on her body forever. Why would they need to go through all that trouble to do the exact same thing?”

“That is weird…” Lúcio mused, sitting down on one of the benches nearby.

Soldier 76 set his pulse rifle against the wall. “I’m expecting some sort of mental modification. They’ll likely alter her brain chemistry in some way to make it possible for her to function after everything they put her through.”

“So, in other words, there’s going to be some mental trauma and conditioning, PTSD, and some sort of change in the way she even thinks standing between us and getting her back?” Jack nodded. “What are we going to do, then? Are we going to try to save her?” Lúcio asked nervously, kicking his skates back and forth.

Morrison hummed for a moment. “If we wanted to go with the wisest choice, everyone would just forget about her. However, the people here care too much about Lena to just let this happen to her. Odds are, we’re going to try to re-capture her and undo whatever programming they put in her.”

“If the news had any semblance of truth to it, Overwatch has done crazier stuff. Didn’t four agents take down an army of Null Sector troops once?”

“Overwatch has done crazier things,” Soldier agreed, nodding. “And as for Hana, Winston will figure something out. Hana and Lena are very similar. I have no doubt she’ll pull through this if Oxton could.”

Then the alarms went off.

…

The blaring alarms snapped Hana out of her stupor as she snapped to attention and vaulted off the windowsill.  
Athena piped up, her voice calm yet urgent. “Intruder alert. Talon agents have breached the perimeter, and are currently making their way through the base.”

Hana’s eyes widened, and she ran to the open door of the chamber. Athena noticed this. “Miss Song, it is not advisable for you to leave the…” Hana dashed out before she could think about it much. She felt her pathetic anchor weaken as she weaved her way through the corridors aimlessly. Athena spoke up again. “Miss Song, if you are so insistent on seeing Talon's attack, then Genji and McCree are currently fighting near Winston and Efi’s lab. Soldier 76 and Lúcio have begun making their way over to the testing range with Pharah, Ana, Junkrat, and Roadhog. All other agents are fighting in the main entrance.”

Hana nodded as she ran. One upside to her new condition was that she didn’t feel any of the exertion, so she ran at top speed to Efi’s lab. There was no way she would just sit by and wonder if Efi was okay.

When she reached the lab, she was greeted by Genji and McCree, who were blocking the hallway to her room, standing shoulder-to-shoulder as they mowed down waves of Talon troops. Winston was in the thick of the soldiers, grabbing and throwing the hapless grunts to the ground and into each other. The three of the seemed to be holding their own well enough, though McCree had beads of sweat on his forehead.

Hana shook her head and decided to take a risk, and, ignoring every single instinct in her body, she ran directly into the thick of the soldiers, keeping her eyes squeezed shut until she finally found herself behind Jesse and Genji, having run directly through all of them.

“What the Hell’re ya doin’? Get back to the chamber!” McCree shouted as he continued taking down soldiers with deft shots to the head.”

Hana couldn’t reply to that, only standing behind them in a wary stance as she looked to Efi’s closed door.

“Efi is fine!” Genji shouted. “We are keeping her safe! Now get back to the chamber before you fade!” Genji pulled out his sword and sliced through another wave of the men, and by now, there was easily less. The sloppy form indicated none of them were particularly well-trained. Hana would likely have better luck fighting Genji and McCree alone and unmeched than the countless number of these bumbling idiots.

Finally, when several men lay wounded and dead on the ground, Winston sighed sadly. “This will be a fair amount of paperwork. It’s horrible that Talon would send them on such a mission… Some of them are still alive, though. I’ll go get Dr Ziegler.”

“I would like to point out the nonlethal strikes were mostly you. Not very efficient,” Genji mused.

“It was not necessary to kill them all.”

“If they’re tryin’ to get to a twelve-year-old, then yeah. It is.”

Hana gasped abruptly, causing everyone to whip around to look at her. She gasped, as in an actual, audible gasp.

Hana grabbed her head and groaned, staggering slightly from the unexpected surge of energy she felt. Everything shifted around her as she snapped into place. “Ow… what in the…” Hana grunted, shaking her head to reorient herself. She jumped. “My- my voice! My hand! It’s solid! I’m… I’m back? But…” Hana paused as realisation all washed over the group. Genji stiffened, McCree balled his hand into a fist, and Winston’s mouth dropped open. “Oh no…”

Then there was a very familiar voice.

“Hello there, loves! Miss me?” In a blur of neon pink, in front of all of them, stood Tracer.

“Lena…” Winston gasped, his arms beginning to tremble. “You- you didn’t…”

“Still in denial, huh, Big guy? Yeah! New and improved me! I think I sell the edgy thing pretty well, don’t I?”

Lena was dressed in a new outfit, reminiscent of her Tracer costume, yet with different colours and a few key differences. She wore a grey leather jacket with two patches on either shoulder. On the side where the British flag would be, the infamous Talon logo sat emblazoned instead. On the other shoulder was a different patch, shaped like a hexagon with a “T” layered behind a jagged, pink “S.”

Long, purple gloves stretched down the length of her arms to the palm of her hands, notably fingerless. Her once-orange leggings were now a bright pink, though not neon like the accelerator. Her gauntlets had been replaced by two holsters on either side of her waist.

Her right leg was gone. In its place was a new prosthetic leg with violet-pink fabric covering the joint. Draped around her neck was a scarf, soft and comfortable looking.

The chronal accelerator had been put into a new harness, one that was using fabric that matched the gloves, and a white material that matched the holsters. The core of the harness was no longer the signature sky-blue. Instead, it shone a vivid, angry, neon pink.

The harness wasn’t the only thing to glow such a colour. Lena’s eyes quite literally shone from behind the slight tint of her goggles, casting an eerie tint over her face as they glowed with an intensity that rivalled the harness itself.

Lena smiled. No. Smile was too generous. Too kind. Lena’s face was instead contorted into a horribly twisted smirk.

McCree froze, his finger twitching on the trigger of Peacekeeper. “Hello, Lena. I’m surprised to see you here. Talon finally get to you?” His words were slow and deliberate, his eyes wide with barely masked fury.

“Oh, something like that, I guess. I mean, at first it was blackmail, then the glowy-eye-thingy became an option, and suddenly everything is _way_ easier!” Lena leaned to the side, looking past Genji and McCree, and she saw Hana, who was struggling to stand.

“Oh man, that chronal reassociation is a killer, huh? Though, why the heck wouldja take the Toy off? I joined Talon to _keep_ that thing from going off. But alas, the past is the past. I mean, except for the two of us, that is. The past is always a part of who we are now or something philosophical like that. Do you like it? Do you think the timeline is fun to see? Being a ghost sure is an adventure and a half!” Lena hummed, reaching under her accelerator as she fiddled with something. Hana recoiled as if struck, pain searing through her as she lost her physical body once more.

Lena was flickering too, her shining eyes silently watching Hana in unnerving mirth. She flipped the switch again, and Hana groaned, clutching her head as her knees began to shake. “S-stop it…”

Lena threw her head back and laughed, wild and hysterical. “Aw, come on! Don’t be like that!” she pressed the switch off again as Hana fell to the ground with a shudder. She took confident strides directly through Genji and McCree as she crouched down tapped Hana on the chin, the rough, cold finger forcing Hana to look at Lena.

“I was always curious; can you hear me like this?” Lena asked though Hana didn’t so much as hear Lena’s voice as she did feel it.

D.va recoiled, forcing away Lena’s non-corporeal hand as she slid back. “What the hell is wrong with you?! We could both fade if you keep this up!”

Lena’s face lit up, and she clapped her hands together, standing up. “So, you can hear me! I never had a way to test it, but I figured we’d be able to since we’re pretty much on the same plane of existence! Kinda cool if I had to admit!”

“Tracer! What is wrong with you?” Genji demanded. “Cease this cruelty!”

Lena opened her mouth, only for her words to not reach everyone. She frowned in annoyance and turned the accelerator back on. Hana took a moaning breath and scowled.

“For the record, this is _so_ not cool.”

“Duly noted!” Lena sang. “Anyway,” she turned to Genji, taking long, cheerful steps over the twosome. “The scar on my neck says a little fun like this isn’t ‘cruel.’ Shock collars and crawling around is, though! Besides, if I could take a bit of disassociation, she’ll live.”

Winston visibly cringed, taking a staggering step back.

“Aw, Big Guy, do you feel bad? Don’t! After all, now I get this cool new outfit! And a harness with some actual battery life! Plus, I can turn it on and off!” Lena flicked the switch on and off in rapid succession, and Hana sunk further to the ground from the abruptness of each transition, curling inward slightly.

“Aw, that must not feel good, huh? You get used to it. You probably shouldn’t have taken the Toy off now, huh? You know, if I wanted to, I could probably do all kinds of fun things in our faded state!”

McCree snapped out of his stupor, finally mustering the courage to point his gun, albeit at the prosthetic on Lena’s leg. “Lena, cut that out now. You’re not right in the head. Stop this, and we’ll help you.”

Lena turned to Genji and feigned shock, putting her hands to her cheeks. “Oh, golly gosh! Say it isn’t so! I’m not right in the head? What on earth could lead to such a presumptuous declaration?” Lena gave Jesse a condescending yet amused glance. “Was it the video Reaper sent, or the glowing eyes? On the topic of glowing eyes, can we talk about how _weird_ they are? Like, everything is pink. Don’t make me do a colour-blind test. I would fail with flying colours.fine”

Hana heaved herself back up, pale in the face. “What _are_ the glowing eyes?”

Lena giggled again, “Man! It’s about time somebody asks! I had to spell it out quite a bit to get you to finally ask! Well, Sombra calls it the ‘Sympathiser.’ Short explanation, makes my eyes glow, probably an aesthetic added by Reaper, and it suppresses all the negative emotions! Handy, if you ask me!”

Genji lowered his head. “And you didn’t think for a moment how screwed up that is?”

Lena shrugged. “I mean, sure, whatever, but by this point, everything is screwed up, so I may as well take it all the way!”

“Just insert my vain lecture on how all emotions are important, which will do absolutely nothing, right here, okay? I’m too tired to come up with one right now,” Hana snarled, glaring at Lena as she leaned against the wall for support.

“Oh! You haven’t told me! I’m curious! How did your first romp through Time go? What did ya see?” Lena leaned forward, looking at Hana like an eager child. Without thinking, Hana’s gaze drifted to Genji and Jesse, who were tense yet conflicted.

“Oh! Was it about the boys over there? I bet it was! Did you perhaps see one of Genji’s crises about being a cyborg? Or McCree brooding about the Deadlock?”

Hana flinched as a shot rang out, and Lena yelped in surprise, falling to the ground. Oil began leaking out her robotic knee. “Aw, come on! We were just having a civil chat! What’d I do to deserve that?”

“Lena, let us help you. Just calm down,” McCree chided, keeping a tight grip on Peacekeeper.

“Hey, I _am_ calm. You’re the one that shot me! But did you forget?” there was a distinct popping sound, and in the blink of an eye, Lena was standing up again, oil on the ground being the only sign she was ever injured. “I kinda have time powers. Now anyway, Hana.” Lena turned back around, completely unbothered by the three people behind her. “Back to talking about dreams- whoops!”

There was another bang, and Hana couldn’t even tell what was going o before there was a flash of neon pink light, then a searing pain in her chest. Hana fell to the ground again.

“Aw, come on!” Lena shouted again, blinking up to McCree and smacking the gun out of his hand.

“Oh God, no…” McCree muttered, aghast.

“I mean, try a little harder at least. If you’re going to aim for the accelerator, at least make sure there isn’t someone directly behind the big glowing target.”

“Hana!” Genji shouted, running past Lena to Hana as he desperately pressed his metal hand against Hana’s chest as her breathing grew laboured, and her vision became blurry.

“Oh, for Christ’s sake. You’re really making me look bad at this whole ‘bad guy’ thing. Lena shoved Genji out of the way, grabbing Hana’s wrist. There was another popping sound, and Hana felt everything fade around her as a torrent of noise and power and everything grabbed her and dragged her backwards in time.

Hana was back against the wall as she retched, gripping her stomach, breathing heavy and panicked.

“For the record, this doesn’t mean I care about you guys. I’m not some villain in need of reformation. My orders were just to leave all of you alive. You’d better be glad the only other one here with chronal disassociation is the one you shot. Otherwise, you’d have one more corpse to file paperwork on.”

“Just what are your orders?” Genji demanded, drawing a shuriken. Winston still remained stunned behind the twosome.

“Oh, you know. Be the big shiny bright distraction. So far, I’d say I’m doing pretty well, right?”

Realization dawned on everyone as horror set in further.

“Yeah, I’ve got my three BFFs and the world’s latest freak show all in one place having a chat with me! And it’s not like you can leave, either, what with the twelve-year-old in the room down the hall that Reaper didn’t tell me to keep alive.”

“I swear to God…” Hana grunted, standing up straight. “If you touch Efi, I will crush you into the dirt.”

Lena held her arms up in surrender. “Woah, girl! I was feeling really good about my chances, but after that remark, I think I need to rethink things. Wow. Talk about a threat! I’m practically quaking in my boots!” Lena giggled at her own joke. “Yeah, I’m just the distraction while Reaper and the gang do their thing. Don’t ask me _why_ they want some of the Junker’s scrapped together bombs, but whatever.”

“Lena, this is madness! Surely you do not intend to continue working for Tal…” Lena held her finger up, cutting him off.

“Oh, hang on, I’m getting a message. You’ll have to get on your soap box later.” Lena pressed a comm device on her ear and hummed a few confirmations before turning back to the group. “Well, this has been fun, but apparently we got what we came for! Hopefully, I’ll see you lot again on the battlefield!”

Genji reacted first, dashing towards Lena to keep her from fleeing, only to grab thin air as she darted over and behind them in a blur of neon pink.

“Oh, and Hana, enjoy the dreams! Oh, and by the way, the name is Slipstream! I’d prefer you call me by that now! Bye!”

“No! Wait! Sto…” It was no good. Hana’s cries were silenced as Slipstream darted away before anyone could do anything, and she fell to the ground after a shock of agony. She curled together, grabbing her knees as she buried her head.

McCree roared again. “ **GOD DAMN IT ALL TO HELL!** ” Furiously, he hit the wall with his prosthetic, leaving a dent. Genji looked away, balling up his fist for a moment before nudging McCree and gesturing to Hana. McCree took a deep, shaky breath.

“Lena… Lena… No…” Winston mourned, falling to the ground in an agonised heap, holding back sobs.

McCree came up to Hana. His voice was carefully calm through sheer force of will. “Hana, are you going to get back to the chamber now?”

Hana reluctantly nodded, forcing herself up as she staggered after McCree. Genji stayed behind to help Winston.

The two walked to the chamber silently. The room hadn’t changed, and Hana stumbled inside, flopping onto the windowsill in a tiny ball. The dam finally broke, and Hana began to utter silenced sobs. McCree didn’t say anything, merely sitting on the window by her.

Hana didn’t know how long they were there, but McCree didn’t say anything as he sat by Hana, offering wordless support.

Finally, Hana felt her grip on the world fade. She lurched, glitching tears sliding down her cheeks as she watched her hand fade. McCree noticed and sighed.

“Finally time, huh? I was wonderin’ when you’d have to go. You’llokay. You’ll come back, and I’ll be right here when ya do, okay?”

“Hana nodded as her legs vanished. Then her torso. The last thing she saw was McCree taking his hat off before Time claimed her.


	24. Distraction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heya guys! Just popping in with a new chapter! Please let me know what you think. One side note I need to make, though, is that this game has A LOT OF CHARACTERS. Now, while most of the focus is on a select few, I do try to give all the characters at least a little time in the sun. Please let me know if you want to see any of them in particular, and I'll see what I can do. No promises, but I figured I'd throw the offer out there.  
> Finally, if you've gotten this far in this story, you either like Tracer, the lore of the story, or need a social life. I happen to fulfil all three. If you wanna add me on Discord or Skype to chat about the lore and stuff, because seriously the lore on this game is great, just ask me and I'll gladly exchange tags with you! Anyway, have a wonderful day everyone, and enjoy!

 

Chapter 24: Distraction

_Hana once again found that she couldn’t move. She had no form; she was a concept. Back in the empty void of nothingness, Hana’s thoughts ran in circles as to what just happened. Tracer had really given up. Now, Talon had given her something to distort her personality into… Slipstream, as she called herself._

_Hana would have moaned at the petty torment Slipstream had used as she repeatedly deactivated her harness. It didn’t insult Hana. The pain was no more than an annoyance. There was no reason Hana should have been bothered by it, yet she was._

_For a few, brief, wonderful seconds, Hana had been whole again. She could speak, she could touch, and she could feel pain. She had been a human. Then Slipstream took that away again. Hana realised, in that instant, just what she had signed up for by removing the sympathiser. Thanks to her actions, she was now trapped in a loop of fading and dreaming then briefly reappearing, only to lose that again soon after. Now that Slipstream had seen Hana like that, and still not come back to Overwatch, it truly was for nothing. Hana had given up her physical body for nothing._

_Hana forced the thought away as she crowded her mind with reassuring and defensive declarations. “No! Now they can’t continue to use me against them!” “Lena was being controlled by something, if we get that out, we can save her, and she doesn’t need to stay with Talon!” “Now, at the very least, I can understand how she felt!”_

_Hana continued the mental war, trying to force out her negative thoughts. No matter how much D.va sought to ward off the regret, though, it remained there, nagging her in the back of her head. Deciding to force everything out of her mind, she moved on to musing over something else._

_The device controlling Lena’s mind. What exactly was it? Lena had seemed like an entirely different person. According to her, it blocked out negative emotions, allowing her to only feel positive ones._

_The implications of such a machine were downright horrific. Without negative feelings, Slipstream was incapable of having a guilty conscience, and thanks to how Talon manipulated her during her “conversion,” she would shamelessly follow her Talon orders._

_Was it even possible to get Slipstream to see the error of her ways? Perhaps the only hope was to force her to undergo the surgery to remove the device affecting her brain, then maybe she would go back to who she once was. After that, they could begin undoing the damage on her mental health._

_Slipstream, right now, though, had no allies. She had only superiors. Nobody could be there to help her. She didn’t perceive Overwatch as allies, Overwatch couldn’t offer her help, and all everybody at Talon wanted with her was a weapon. Overwatch would have to recapture her, very much so against her will._

_Then Hana began to sink, her thoughts clouding as memories and sensations began to invade. It was happening again. Then, darkness became light, and she became someone else._

_…_

_The first thing Hana realised was that she couldn’t move. Not just in the sense that she was someone else, but even that person physically couldn’t move. She was contorted into an awkward position with all limbs pinned to the ground, along with the neck being bent awkwardly. The person’s torso was also stuck to the floor._

_The next thing Hana noticed was how much pain the person was in. Her entire body was perpetually stinging, though in some areas it felt closer to fire than a typical sting_

_Hana realised with a dawning sense of trepidation who she was. She was Tracer before Talon finally converted her._

_D.va’s brain began to spin with worries about what she would experience. Why, of all times, did she have to be brought to Tracer’s torture? What decided where she faded to?_

_The room was the same one Reaper had made the video in, and by some unseen force, Lena was stuck to the ground. She stared ahead, devoting all her effort to taking short, laboured breaths. Lena’s breath was ragged, and her lungs stung. Often, Lena’s breath would hitch, and she broke into a fit of rough coughs as blood splattered on the ground in front of her, dribbling down her chin._

_Lena’s mind was foggy, as though she wasn’t acutely aware of her surroundings. Thoughts ran in loops like a broken record._ “Breathe… breathe… stuck… breathe…  beathe… breathe… breathe… neck collar… cuffs… hard to breathe… breathe… in… out… in… out…”

_Hana would have given anything to not need to see this again, to not need to feel the agony, to not need to smell the odour of burnt flesh. But she was here, so maybe she could try to learn something about Talon._

_As it turns out, being Tracer involved a lot of groggy waiting. Lena was all alone in the room as she listened to her own breathing and the hum of the lights above. Several times, Lena drifted off into a comatose state, only to jolt back awake by a fresh wave of pain._

“Bored… tired… can’t sleep… wonder what McCree and Genji and Winston are doing… hope they’re okay… worried… are they looking for me? I need help… breathe… I wonder when Reaper is coming back… maybe Sombra will come… tired… breathe… alone…”

_Hana listened intently to Lena’s thoughts, if only because she was incapable of doing much else._

_Then the door opened behind Tracer, and her adrenaline began to flow as her heart began to pound painfully in her chest._

_Suddenly, Tracer’s awkwardly contorted limbs loosened as whatever was holding her to the ground came loose. After this happened, Lena immediately curled inward, hugging her good knee to her chest as she shivered violently. Hana could tell that Lena was physically incapable of moving her damaged knee._

_Then the person entering the room spoke. “Dios mio. Reaper really needs to chill it with the floor magnets.” Hana recognised the voice as the person on the HoloVid before she transferred over to Reaper. It was Sombra. Her voice was more annoyed than anything as she walked in front of Lena._

_“Sit up, wouldja? I’m not going to hurt you or anything. I just have some water for you,” she said, leaning against the wall as Lena heaved herself to a sitting position. Lena continued to shiver, though now it was more from the dry discomfort of the stale air around her. Hana felt Lena calm herself down, though still very much so on guard and wary._

_Sombra waved a water bottle in front of Lena before uncapping it. Then she pressed a button on the remote she held in her other hand, and oxygen made its way into Lena’s lungs as she took huge, gulping breaths of the lukewarm air.  
“I’m just gonna loosen the collar this time. I wasn’t able to bring a towel or anything to clean you off with, and I don’t feel like watching your blood gush everywhere. Now drink.”_

_Sombra offered the bottle to Lena, who’s hand trembled so violently from general exhaustion that she could not hold it. Sombra sighed. “Okay, let me help. Otherwise, you’ll spill all over yourself.” Gingerly, Sombra crouched to the ground and held the bottle at Lena’s lips, carefully tipping it upward. Lena’s cheeks burned from embarrassment, but nonetheless, she sipped it wordlessly, gradually taking larger gulps until the entire bottle was finished. Hana could feel the incessant thirst was far from quenched, and hunger seemed to gnaw at her stomach more than ever, yet Lena was oddly satisfied in some morbid way._

_“Now, let’s cut to the chase…” Sombra sighed as she screwed the lid on the empty bottle, standing back up. “You should really give up. Soon, Reaper plans to come in and record you like this eventually if you keep this up. Then he’s going to send it to the entire world. He also has a lot more than the Pit planned for you. Namely another sick game involving your fun recall ability. You could either give up or let the entire world see you as this mess.” Sombra paused to let it sink in as Lena’s mind began to whirr. She watched Sombra warily, searching for any deception in her voice._

_“So? Will you please just give in already?”_

_Lena looked away and shook her head._

_“Geez, come on! I’m trying to offer you an out. Why wouldn’t you just give up? You’re in a lose-lose situation, and I’m in no position to do much more than follow orders. This is the most I can do for you!”_

_Lena’s shoulder’s slumped, though she did not say anything. Sombra growled in frustration. “But why? You’ve got nothing to gain by doing this! Unless you count scars, that is.”_

_After a few seconds of thinking, Lena looked up at the hacker in something akin to resignation. She opened her mouth and rasped out two words. “I… can’t…” Lena put her hand to her mouth and worked to stifle coughs as Sombra rolled her eyes._

_“But… why? All you’re doing is imposing punishment on yourself.”_

_When she was done coughing, Lena shrugged. “You said Reaper is going to… record me… well...” Lena paused and broke into another fit of coughs. “Then I especially can’t… I’m not allowed to just give up over a little pain…”_

_“You can’t? Says who?”_

_“Says everyone, actually. I’m the Overwatch poster-girl, as dumb as that is. Some kids look up to me… and authorities that judge… Overwatch based on my… actions.”_

_“So, you’d rather have yourself hurt and humiliated?!” Sombra grunted, making Lena flinch._

_“Of course not… I don’t want to stay here like this… I just have no other choice. If I give in just because of some pain, that’ll reflect horribly on Overwatch.”_

_Sombra sighed and rubbed her temples. “But… like… this sucks- having to sit to the side and watch this- it’s really… just… not fun.”_

_Lena chuckled mirthlessly. “Tell me about it. I’m not exactly having a party over here either… I thought you didn’t care about me, though. You were the one that brought me here… in the first place.”_

_“Well, I didn’t expect you to take four days to change your mind. I figured it’d be relatively fast, and that after a little bit of Reaper doing his thing, that we’d skip to painless neural reconditioning or something!” Sombra winced, looking away._

_“You’re really not helping your case.”_

_“It sounded better in my head,” she defended with a short laugh. “In any case, is there anything I can do to get you to stop with the stubborn thing?”_

_“You could always let me go,” Lena tried in a tired voice._

_“You know that’s not going to happen.”_

_“Yeah, I know,” Lena said in deadpan. “Though, I’m still holding out hope that Overwatch is coming. I probably shouldn’t, but whatever…”_

_Sombra seemed conflicted for a moment. “Trust me, there’s no way Overwatch is getting here.  Reaper’s making sure of it.”_

_“What’s he hoping for anyway?” Lena stifled another cough with her hand on her mouth, which came back bright red. Lena seemed unbothered. “So far I’ve not exactly been convinced of the righteousness of this little group…”_

_“Oh, I think you know what he’s doing, given the ‘obedient little pet’ thing he’s been on about,” Sombra answered as she rolled her eyes. “He’s not exactly concerned with how you feel about your new ‘occupation.’”_

_“True,” Lena agreed with a certain sense of detachment and her emotions carefully and deliberately tucked away. She tilted her head. “What are you after, though? You seem able to escape Talon if you don’t like it, and you don’t appear to agree with Reaper, so why are you here?”_

_Sombra’s expression grew guarded as she watched Lena. “Information. That’s all you need to know.”_

_“Oh, you mean like how the Slipstream works?” Lena jabbed, leaning against the wall as she stared at one of the stabilisers on the other end of the room._

_“You wouldn’t understand,” Sombra retorted._

_“Oh, so you’re being vague, huh? Saying that is the same thing as saying you don’t have a justification.”_

_“My reasons are mine alone. It is none of your business.”_

_Lena turned to Sombra with a strange mixture of calm and resignation. “I think when this search for information interferes with my life like it has, it does sort of become my business.”_

_Sombra rolled her eyes. “So what? What are you going to do about it? Whine to me about how I ‘ruined your life’ by crashing that jet?”_

_“Of course not. I couldn’t care less about what it actually did to me. What I have a problem with is that you were willing to make it crash, regardless of who the pilot is. I mean, who could have predicted the chronal disassociation that it caused? For all anyone knew, crashing it would only lead to death.” Lena paused as she began to hack and retch, more blood splattering to the ground._

_Before she was even done coughing, Sombra stood up, tightening her grip on the controller. “I did what I had to do. I wasn’t going to let Overwatch have such valuable technology! By making it malfunction, a ban was put on the project!”_

_Lena spoke up now, her hoarse voice raised for the first time. “Yeah, but you could have done it during one of the dummy tests!”_

_“No, I couldn’t have! Talon wanted me to shut down the project completely! Research would have continued if I didn’t do it during a proper test flight! So, I made the most of it! I hacked the jet, took some of the data for myself, and crashed it as quickly as I could!” she shouted, glaring at Lena._

_“But there was someone alive in there! Whether it was me or someone else, there was somebody alive in that cockpit!”_

_“Look, I came here to help you! Not have my decisions mocked, so just come off it! I doubt you’d care if it was anybody other than you in that cockpit!”_

_Lena crossed her cuffed arms and glowered. “Don’t speak for how I feel! Do I wish the crash hadn’t happened? Sometimes, yes, I do! But that doesn’t have anything to do with the fact that **you crashed a jet that had a living person in it!** ” Lena broke off into another fit of coughs from the strain on her parched throat._

_“Be **quiet!** ” Sombra screeched, pressing a button as the collar on Lena’s neck tightened abruptly, causing her to wheeze and cough and choke even more as she clawed at her neck to try and breathe._

_Lena dropped to the ground with her cuffs as she bucked against the magnetic pull as Sombra stormed out of the room. The last thing Hana saw before returning to her void was Sombra wiping her face as she stormed out of the chamber._

_Hana returned to her darkness, left to ponder what she just experienced._

_…_

Widowmaker watched the girl in the cockpit curiously. The loot from the Gibraltar mission sat in a crate that Sombra was nervously picking through, gingerly checking the bombs they had attained. Sombra flinched every time the ship encountered turbulence, as though she expected the colourful, unpredictable explosives to go off at the drop of a hat. She squeaked as the ship lurched, causing her to drop one of the items.

“Slipstream! Mind being a little gentler? I’d rather not blow us all to pieces!”

Slipstream turned from the cockpit, only keeping one hand on the controls as she gave Sombra an amused glance.

“Yeah, okay. I’ll channel my secret ability to control the wind that came with the time powers.” Slipstream then giggled at her own joke, to which Sombra rolled her eyes.

“I’m serious! These bombs could blow us up at the drop of a hat with how scrapped together these are!

“You guys are the ones that chose to go for the Junker’s bombs instead of any other fancy technology Overwatch has,” Slipstream retorted as Sombra waved at her to turn back around and focus on the controls. “But man, that was easy! I didn’t even need to draw my guns! I mean, I knew the lot would be surprised, but _wow,_ they’re way too soft! I think Jesse was the only one to even shoot at me!

“Shouldn’t you have been at least a little worried about that?” Widowmaker asked coolly. Slipstream giggled, setting her head against the seat.

“Nah. He first went for the prosthetic, which, hey, didja know I can rewind my own time?” Slipstream’s sarcasm was palpable. “‘Cause I can. So, pop, back to normal! Or whatever the hell passes for normal in this freak show. Anyway, yeah. He was too sentimental to even _try_ being lethal with his shots. Kinda dumb if you ask me! I didn’t even get a challenge!”

Widowmaker quirked an eyebrow. “You certainly seem… energetic.”

Slipstream bounced in her seat, by some miracle managing to keep the jet from doing the same. “And you seem cold as always. Lighten up for once!”

The assassin snorted. “Well, it seems your latest augmentation is doing its job then.”

Sombra rolled her eyes. “The sympathiser is made to block out negative emotions, not make her hyper. That’s all her. Did you drink coffee or eat anything sugary?” she asked to Slipstream, who shrugged carelessly.

“No. I don’t think I’ve eaten anything since yesterday afternoon.”

Sombra jumped. “What? Why not?! You went into combat without having eaten in over twenty-four hours? You need the food! You’re still skinny as hell!”

Slipstream shrugged again. “Guess so. I’m fine though, so don’t worry about it. Am I even allowed in the kitchen?”

“Of course you are!” Sombra nearly shouted. Widowmaker watched the twosome passively. “You have the same privileges as Widowmaker and I, pretty much! Okay, first thing we do when you get us back there is get you some food! Are you not even hungry?”

Slipstream paused, thinking for a moment, as though it was genuinely difficult for her to tell. “I mean, I’m hungry, but whatever. I’ll be fine!”

“That’s not how hunger works!”

Widowmaker held up her hand to Sombra, drawing the hacker’s attention. “You say the sympathiser blocks out negative emotions. Negative emotions are what trigger a survival response. And also without her ability to feel negatively about pain or hunger, it can lead to a lessened sense of self-preservation.”

Reaper, who’s presence had been all but forgotten, chuckled darkly. “You would know all about that, wouldn’t you?” Widowmaker ignored him.

“Ugh, in other words, I have to babysit the newbie?” Sombra groaned, setting one of the bombs back into the cargo crate.

Reaper nodded. “I do hope you don’t mind,” he added in mock politeness, leaning back in his seat.

Sombra rolled her eyes and turned to Widowmaker curiously. “What, have you forgotten to eat before?” She leaned against the wall of the ship, not bothering to sit in one of the seats.

The spider shrugged. “On occasion, though it is rare now. I survived on injections during the process of my augmentations. After that, it was difficult to get back into the habit of consuming sustenance.”

“How does one have trouble ‘consuming sustenance?’ If you’re hungry, wouldn’t you eat?”

“Not when you lack the ability to feel the emotions that drive you to care for yourself.”

Sombra hummed thoughtfully. “That sounds super annoying. Slipstream, any chance I can just order you to eat?”

Slipstream propped her prosthetic leg on the control panel in front of her as she turned to Sombra. “You know I have to do what you say,” she said carelessly.  “Don’t ask questions you know the answer to.” Slipstream yawned, tipping her head backward to look at Reaper.

“So, Boss, what’re these bombs for, anyway? I’m all for a fun outing, but it seems kinda weird to go for-”

The ghostly man held up his hand to silence Slipstream. “Classified.” Slipstream reacted immediately, shutting her mouth as her expression went neutral. She turned back around with a calm yet firm grip on the controls in front of her. She didn’t press the matter further.

Sombra sighed, looking away from the pilot to Widowmaker.

“Where have you been lately, anyway? I don’t remember seeing you around.”

“My home. Château Guillard in France. I lived there with my husband before I joined Talon.” Widowmaker answered without concern.

The hacker huffed as she idly pulled up one of her HoloVid projectors. “Must be a lot of happy memories there.”

“Don’t be a pest.”

“Please. I squish pests. Well, bugs… same thing!”

Widowmaker rolled her eyes and turned her attention to Slipstream, who still had her eyes straight ahead after Reaper ordered her to be silent. If the pilot noticed Widowmaker’s fascinated gaze, she didn’t show it.

Slipstream seemed perfectly fine if given a cursory glance. However, upon further analysis, Widowmaker noticed how one hand was fidgeting on the controls, her head was dipped almost imperceptibly, and one of her eyelids was drooping ever so slightly further than the other. She looked to be exhausted, yet forcing all that exhaustion away through sheer force of will.

Slipstream might have strained herself, going on a mission so soon after her recovery, coupled with all the medical treatments as of late. Her stamina would take some time to build back up.

Perhaps some light aerobic training was in order soon.

It was odd, looking at someone who had once been Widowmaker’s enemy as an ally. Lena Oxton appeared to be an entirely different, yet similar, person. The snide yet peppy remarks that had once been laced with condescension towards Widowmaker were now mirthful and sardonic sarcasm. Slipstream was devoid of a care in the world. It was difficult to tell if this is how Oxton acted in a casual situation devoid of enemies or if it was a result of the implant in her brain coupled with the process of her conversion. She still seemed able to function properly, which was a fascinating thing. Widowmaker would need to press her on her behaviour later. Overall, Slipstream seemed to have adjusted with impressive speed. Perhaps the sympathiser was the kind of tool Talon would have used on her had it been available at the time.

“Widowmaker,” Reaper rasped, drawing her attention away. “You’re going to be on standby at the base until we decide which target to go for next. Personally, I’m leaning towards those candy-coloured teenagers, but Doomfist wants to see Sombra first concerning one of her friends.”

The man worded it so nonchalantly, hardly even directing his statement at the hacker, yet Sombra was instantly on edge.

“My friend? I have a lot of friends. I’m very social,” she joked nervously, scrolling through random web pages on her HoloVid.

“Oh, I’m sure you can figure out which one he’s referring to. Take it up with him when he gets back from scouting out Rio de Janeiro.”

Sombra nodded stiffly, giving him a thumbs up before focusing intently on whatever article she was reading.

“We still have a lot of work to do,” Reaper commented, turning to the pilot of the jet. “Don’t let me down, Slipstream.”

Slipstream responded with some of the energy back in her voice as she did a small salute. “You got it, Boss.”

…

“I’m tellin’ ya! They took our best work! My masterpieces! Fine works of art that had a wonderful life ahead of them!” the soot-covered man whined from his seat, kicking his feet up on the table. Symmetra, who got roped into sitting next to him, carefully averted her gaze as she looked to Winston.

“Why do you think they took the technology of these ruffians, of all people?” she asked stiffly, trying to lean away from the man without appearing rude.

Mei, from the seat across of Symmetra, hummed thoughtfully. “I mean, can’t Talon make way more efficient bombs than that?”

Winston nodded, his eyes dull and unfocused. “Yes, and if they were lacking on resources, they would have gone after Torbjörn, Symmetra, Efi, or myself with genuine efforts, yet their best agents were on the Junkers’ quarters.”

Efi chirped up, who was sitting next to Orisa. She was fidgety and nervous, still on edge from having a fight break out so close to her. “Do they plan on blowing things up with those bombs to pin it on the Junkers, and Overwatch by association?”

Shaking her head, Ana cupped her head with folded hands. “The Junkers’ presence here is top-secret, but a few more explosions won’t do much more but raise the bounty on their heads. Overwatch wouldn’t be affected in the slightest.”

The silence hung over the air as all the agents were deep in thought. Roadhog was not sitting, instead opting to stand behind Junkrat, his emotions hidden behind his mask. Soldier 76 was pacing around pensively, and Mercy was tapping her fingers on the table in front of her. Lúcio just seemed tired as he sat next to Efi. The DJ leaned back in his chair, his gaze unfocused and stressed. He put a hand over his eyes, taking a deep breath. Efi watched him for a moment before speaking back up, though even her voice was strained.

“I mean, come on! We’ll make this up somehow! What… what other missions are planned? I’m sure Orisa and I can help out somehow!”

Mercy shook her head, giving Efi an appreciative smile. “You are doing more than enough helping Agent Song.”

Efi stammered, hunching over in her chair. “But… I haven’t even done anything…”

Hanzo bowed his head as he thought. “Speaking of Agent Song, where is she? How has she been?” His voice wasn’t gentle, but it wasn’t rude, either.

“Hell if I know,” Lúcio said as he fell forward, supporting his head with one hand. Mercy watched him with concern. This time it was Genji who spoke up, standing next to a notably silent McCree next to the door.

“Hana Song is currently lost in time,” he responded carefully, his voice blank with his eyes hidden behind his green visor.

Torbjörn huffed. “Seems to me like we have our priorities all over the place. I say we set a goal and start being productive instead of sitting around throwing a pity party.”

Zenyatta was close by, seated in a chair next to Hanzo with Bastion behind him. “Many of us have found ourselves plagued by anguish as of late. I believe our best course of action would be to move onward in hopes of achieving our individual goals.”

“So then, where should we go from here? I say we get back in the fight and make Overwatch’s presence known.” Reinhardt suggested with notable more pep in his voice than the rest of the room.

Some of the more observant agents couldn’t help but notice McCree ball his hand into a fist as he leaned against the wall, his hat covering his eyes.

Pharah hummed thoughtfully. “From what I’ve heard, Russia is in the middle of a fight with the Omnics. This would be an opportune time to lend assistance.”

Winston sighed, his head down. “There’s also a meeting in the UK concerning Overwatch and where we stand. It shouldn’t be more than paperwork and rules, but preferably some of you guys will join me.”

“Who do you plan on having join you?” Pharah asked, her posture perfect as she sat with her hands folded in front of her.

Winston sighed in melancholy again. “Preferably, Reinhardt, Torbjörn, Dr Ziegler, and anyone else who is willing and not an outlaw.”

Soldier 76 huffed in dry amusement.

“I would be glad to join, should my presence be welcome,” Zenyatta offered. “Perhaps I could represent the Shambali monks.”

Winston nodded approvingly, though Torbjörn grunted. “I’m going to Russia, and I’m taking the Bastion with me.”

Mercy hummed in concern. “Are you sure it’s wise to take an e54 Bastion unit to Russia?”

“It’ll be okay,” Torbjörn dismissed. “I’ll give him a paint job and be careful about things.” Bastion whirred in appreciation.

“I can represent Helix, though I feel I will also be useful fighting the violent Omnics in Russia.” Pharah glanced nervously at the collection of Omnics in the room, as though worried about causing offence.

Ana chipped in hastily. “I believe I could go to Russia and help the wounded in Dr Ziegler’s stead, under cover of course. My daughter is best going to help with the Overwatch public relations.”

Winston nodded distractedly, scribbling down sloppy notes on a clipboard as Pharah gave her mother a slightly annoyed glance. Ana didn’t react.

Hanzo rotated his arm, which had been healing nicely. “I believe I am prepared to take my bow back up. I will assist in the fight.”

Mei hummed gleefully. “I’ll go to the meeting. After that, I’ll need to go around the world on some business, if that’s okay.”

“I’ll go to Russia under cover,” Soldier 76 grunted. “It’d probably be best if the Junkers stay here, though.”

“Oi! I don’t wanna stay here! I wanna scrap some bots!” he shouted, oblivious to the frustrated beeps and boops from Bastion.

“I don’t see why they can’t join,” Ana offered. “So long as they don’t act in affiliation to Overwatch.”

“Hell yeah! We’re goin’ on a trip Roadie!” Junkrat cheered. “I’ll get to vent some steam from them Talon guys takin’ my stuff!”

Mercy watched as Winston scribbled down pitiful notes, only somewhat paying attention. She sighed, taking a pen out of her lab pocket and stealing the clipboard from Winston, who grunted in protest.

She wrote something down quickly and showed it to Ana, who nodded in approval.

“If this is how we want to do it, then that means Winston, myself, Mei, Symmetra, Pharah, Reinhardt, and Zenyatta will be going to the meeting in the UK. Ana, Hanzo, Junkrat, Roadhog, and Jack will be going to Russia, then. That leaves Jesse, Genji, Efi, Orisa, Hana, and Lúcio watching the base.”

Efi moaned. “Aw, why do I have to stay here? I’m sure Orisa and I can be helpful!”

Ana chuckled. “Jack would blow a fuse if we took a kid to war, and those meetings are boring as sand,” she joked, making Efi giggle a bit.

“Not to mention, with Winston gone, that leaves you to work on a solution for Agent Song’s condition,” Mercy added politely.

“We also have that big stream coming up…” Lúcio muttered, rubbing his eyes. “Help Overwatch’s appearance to the public, get money for the accelerator… things like that.”

“But what about Orisa?” Efi pressed, leaning against the remodelled OR15, who put her arm around the child protectively.

“Extra defence, should anything go south,” Soldier 76 offered quickly.

“Hmm… Yes sir,” Efi conceded after a moment’s thought. “My parents would kill me if they heard I went to a war anyway.”

“We can’t have that, now can we?” Mercy chuckled.

McCree finally spoke up, his voice cold, with even his thick southern drawl concealed by slow, deliberate words. “So, we’re just going to ignore the big elephant in the room?”

The room was dead silent as everyone looked away in discomfort. Winston buried his head in his hands. Lúcio and Efi exchanged worried glances. Genji looked away, barely moving. Mercy sighed glumly, shutting her eyes. Reinhardt balled his hand into a fist. Everyone else watched in discomfort.

“Really? We don’t got nothing we can do about her? We’re just going to leave her like that, with them?”

“What do you expect us to do about her?” Mercy said, looking up to McCree, who was chewing on an unlit cigar. “She attacked our base, and we don’t know where Talon retreated to. And if what Winston described is true, she’s hardly even herself anymore.”

“That doesn’t mean we just give up on her!” McCree screeched, the cigar dropping from his mouth.

“Well, what do you propose we do?” Mercy offered, her voice calm yet tired.

“I- I don’t know, dammit! Doesn’t the accelerator have a tracker in it? Maybe we can hunt down Talon’s location! Something! Anything! We can’t just leave her like that!”

“No…” Winston muttered. “I checked… the accelerator’s tracker was removed.”

“We can’t just leave her and move on to the next project!” McCree continued, slamming his prosthetic against the wall. “She was **tortured** by Talon, we failed to **save** her, we got another agent stuck in the same Hell she lives in, and she had her emotions drained away, but **we’re not doing anything?** What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Jesse, I understand you’re mad, but…” Mercy began, only for Jesse to cut her off.

“ **MAD?** Mad don’t even begin to describe it!” the cowboy fumed, his eyes full of agony. Genji didn’t move. “She doesn’t deserve that! She deserves so much better! But **NO!** We’re leaving her in the hands of god damn terrorists without a mind to call her own!”

Jesse stumbled, leaning over as he hit the wall again, this time with less strength to muster. “Slipstream… she called herself Slipstream… figures Talon would give her a name like that… they just gotta rub salt in the wound…”

 “Jesse… we don’t have any way to find her…” Winston mumble. “I’d be the first person to go after her if it was even possible.”

McCree glared at everyone for several seconds, before turning around. “Nothin’ we can do, huh?” He sighed, short and angry, though out of energy. “I’ll be in the chamber.” He stormed out before anyone could protest.

Genji remained motionless for several extra seconds, before ultimately deciding to follow McCree.

Morrison sighed in annoyance. “I see they haven’t cooled their hot heads yet. Idiots. I’ll be right back.” He left the room as everyone watched in various mixes of gloominess and confusion.

“Shimada,” he stated plainly as he caught the ninja outside the door, heading in the direction the cowboy was going.

“Yes, Commander?” Genji said politely, though venom laced his words from behind the visor.

“Tell the cowboy to come see me when his head is screwed on straight. I might have a lead for him, but I’m not sharing unless he agrees to not beeline out of here.”

Genji nodded appreciatively and left without further discussion.

…

When Hana reappeared, it was dark out, and Jesse was next to her. She blinked in surprise, not sure how long he had been waiting or long she was gone. He had a book in his hands, and it was surprisingly thick as he flipped through the pages. Genji was in the room as well, sitting against one of the walls in a meditation pose. He noticed her instantly and made a sound akin to clearing one’s throat, and McCree set the book down when he saw the ghost.

“Howdy there. How’re you holdin’ up, Darlin’?”

Hana wrinkled her nose at the nickname. He chuckled. “I’m guessin’ you’re not too eager to chat about it. Don’t worry, ya don’t need to.”

Hana nodded gratefully and gestured to the book he was holding.

He tipped his hat. “Well, since it seems you’re in this for the long-haul, and I’ve got nothin’ to do for a bit, I figured I’d show ya some sign language.”

Hana blinked in surprise at the suddenness of the offer.

Genji sighed. “Jesse assisted Lena with it as well. Hana’s eyes widened as she realised the reason and weight behind the offer. She nodded.

“Alrighty then,” McCree said without further conversation. “My sign language is rusty as Hell, but if ya could learn my stupid language, you should be fine.”

“Yes, English is a horrible language,” Genji added from his side of the room.

Hana chuckled silently as McCree shot the cyborg a dirty glare. Then he opened up the book. The cover read _Introduction to Sign Language_ , and the book showed visible signs of wear-and-tear. Pen marks were common on all the pages along with the occasional soot stain from cigars.

“So the first thing to start with should probably be the alphabet.”


	25. Happiness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heya dudes. Sorry this chapter took a bajillion years. I hit a roadblock in my writing. Though, I do quite like this chapter. Let me know what you guys think, the feedback is what keeps me writing this fic! Anyway, I hope I see you all soon! Enjoy!

**__ **

**_ Chapter 25: Happiness _ **

“Christ, Hana. It’s only been a few hours… maybe slow down, so I don’t feel bad about takin’ so long to learn this stuff,” McCree moaned as Hana joyfully signed another word to him, having already memorised the alphabet and a few basic words.

Genji chuckled from his part of the room. “Once one has learned this ridiculous language, anything else comes easier,” he offered, likely smirking under his visor.

“Hey, I know Spanish too, and this still was a pain to learn!” McCree whined as Hana laughed from behind him.

“To be fair, you only needed to learn how to understand it, not sign it,” Genji added.

“M’kay, and how’s your sign language?” McCree leaned against the wall in frustration as Genji tipped his head.

“Oh, I’m fluent in it, but I’m a freaking cyborg ninja.” Genji teased.

“Since when does that come with a sign language translator?!”

“Since I found one on the Internet of course.”

Hana shrugged and nodded with a grin. His reasoning was legit.

“Ugh, fine! Just you watch! Imma study up on this book and come back for more lessons tomorrow fully fluent!”

The cyborg snorted. “Be grateful you’re not going on the mission then.”

Hana perked to attention and quickly sighed out a single word.

_“What?”_

“Oh yeah… kinda slipped my mind.”

Hana smacked her face with her translucent hand.

“Well, some of the agents went to the U.K. for a meeting,” Genji said, spinning a shuriken around in his hand. “Which is boring as Hanzo’s old speeches about family honour, so naturally that’s a big skip.”

“I didn’t go given the bounty on my head and whatnot,” McCree added, leaning against the wall after brushing aside one of the dusty chords.

Hana bit her lip in a brief moment of consideration before signing one of the words she knew. “ _Who?_ ”

McCree blinked. “Who? Who what?”

“She likely means who else went on the mission,” Genji added helpfully. Hana nodded. “Context, Jesse.”

“Hush up. Anyway, who else? I dunno actually… who all is goin’ again?”

Genji sighed. “This is why you pay attention in meetings.”

“You’re no sage of payin’-attention-ness either!” McCree retorted defensively. “Remember the mission with Talon and the OR14s?”

“I was listening to that; I just didn’t care enough to obey. I was in my edgy phase around then, so.”

Hana laughed in surprise at Genji’s remark, covering her mouth even though it was inaudible.

“To be fair, we all were,” McCree pressed. “Reyes was the one makin’ the outfits after all.”

“I’m surprised he had input as to the colouration of my robotic limbs, to be honest. That seems like something more in Angela’s realm of authority.”

Hana blinked, surprised at how relaxed they were given the sensitive subject matter. It was probably for the sake of keeping her spirits up that they were so nonchalant.

“I personally didn’t mind the black and red. It fit ya perfectly.”

“At the time, I suppose so,” Genji chuckled. “Then there was the whole ‘finding the tranquillity Omnic then inner-peace and whatnot’ thing, now I’m enlightened or something.”

Hana tipped her head curiously. McCree huffed humorously. “Genji wasn’t exactly a big fan of the whole cyborg thing when it first happened.”

Genji chuckled, his metallic voice ripe with amusement. “You weren’t exactly the pinnacle of serenity when Blackwatch first recruited you, either.”

“Reyes only caught me because of dumb luck! I’d have been fine otherwise!” McCree defended indignantly, shoving Genji away dejectedly.

“He was always one step ahead of you. Otherwise, you’d have escaped a long time ago.”

“I only stayed because I felt like it! Reyes would have nothin’ on me if I’d have wanted to escape!”

Hana chuckled as the two bickered. She sat against one of the metal beams, kicking her legs as she grinned. It was hard to tell if they were playing things up or not. She really hoped they weren’t.

“No, you were jealous of Reyes’ skill. He was almost as good a shot as you, and better than you at everything else.”

“I don’t recall what yer talkin’ about, Partner,” McCree denied, shaking his head.

“He’s able to spin in a circle, hitting everything in sight.”

Hana wrinkled her nose and spelt out another word as both men paused to read her signing. _“ Spammer.”_

“He was, ain’t he?” McCree agreed. “Wonder if he does that with all them shotguns Talon’s givin’ him…”

In the mentioning of Talon, the playful atmosphere vanished, and McCree his face with his prosthetic arm. “Ah, shoot. I wasn’t tryin’ to spoil the mood.”

Hana waved it off with a shrug.

Genji shook his head, giving McCree a punch to the shoulder that was powerful enough to knock the man off balance.

“That is not important now,” the cyborg assured, looking to Hana. “We will strike down Talon soon enough, and save Lena.” His voice was calm and composed with an expression hidden behind his visor.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Oh, Hana, any clue how that chronal accelerator is comin’?” McCree asked, partially to change the topic.

Hana sighed and shook her head indifferently. She hadn’t seen Lúcio or Efi for a little while, so it was hard to know what was going on. Now that she thought about it, though, it was clear she had no idea what was going on anywhere. She was stuck in the isolated bubble of the chamber.

“Yeah, guess ya wouldn’t know. How’re ya doin’, though? You don’t exactly make it easy to read your emotions.”

Hana shrugged again, tipping her finger in the so-so gesture.

“Well, that is already more honest than what Lena would say,” Genji mused. “She would have always given a thumbs up even if her eyes were red and puffy.”

“What’s the difference then? You and Lena were both stuck here ‘round your age, and she acted kinda similarly to ya with tons more denial.”

Hana thought about that for a moment. She and Lena might have their similarities, but Hana probably wasn’t nearly as upset by everything as she probably should have been. Maybe she's just been getting lucky with the dreams. Though, if Hana had to guess, it was probably because she chose to be like this.

Not wanting to spell it out, Hana pointed to the back of her neck, Genji nodding pensively as McCree stared blankly for a moment before giving a quiet “oooohhh,” as he realised what she meant.

“I suppose that is true, you did develop chronal disassociation voluntarily. It’s still odd, though, how you and Lena act so subtly the same yet different in this situation. Perhaps it is just the behaviour the room brings out in people…” he mused, sitting back down.

Hana sighed again and began spelling something out as Genji paid close attention, though McCree seemed to be a bit behind, but didn’t call for her to slow down.

_“Tracer was a pilot. I’m already a soldier, right?”_

“Ah, yeah, I suppose that’d make sense. It was pretty obvious that was her first time goin’ through real shit like that.”

Genji shook his head. “I still find it horrendous that you were forced to begin fighting so long ago. You were still underage, right?”

Hana sighed. This was a conversation she’s had to have too many times. _“It was for my country. I had no choice.”_

That is true. Sometimes ya just gotta do what needs to be done,” he agreed in a sombre voice. “It’s morbid as Hell, but at least the exposure prepped ya a little for this mess.”

_“Small Mercies.”_

…

Lúcio rushed back to his room to grab the unique communicator. If he was lucky, he could pull off his little plan. This was the allotted time he was given, after all. The device lay on his countertop, directly next to his PC. It was small and round, comfortably fitting in his palm. Lúcio slipped the video chat device into his pocket.

The DJ yawned, rubbing his eyes. He was probably overdue for some sleep, but between training, the recent attack, and sorting the stream out, there just wasn’t much time. That was okay. It wasn’t his first time having to go without much sleep for a few days.

“Mr. dos Santos, I would like to speak with you,” a female voice said from his doorway, making Lúcio jump. He whipped around and saw Mercy, staring at him with an all-business expression. She was wearing casual jeans and a black Overwatch shirt, though she wore the usual lab coat Lúcio almost always saw her in when she wasn’t wearing her Valkyrie suit.

“Oh, Dr Ziegler! I thought you were going to the meeting in the UK?”

She nodded as her eyes appeared to scan him. “Yes, but we do not leave for a few hours. In the meantime, I’m here to discuss something with you.”

“Really? Is it about Hana?” he asked idly, gesturing for her to enter.

“No, it’s about you. I am concerned about your current health.”

“If it’s about my injuries from Vishkar, the meds you gave me are working wonders. Most of the gashes are just scars now,” Lúcio told her, sitting down on his bed with a casual grin. “Thanks again for all the help you guys have given me.”

“It’s no problem, and I’m glad to see you’re healing well,” Mercy said with a kind smile. “However, it is apparent to me from the meeting that you have not been getting sufficient sleep.”

“Oh, you noticed? Sorry about that. Things have been crazy lately, as you know,” he leaned against the wall and fiddled with the green comforter of his bed as he spoke.

“They have. However, according to your Athena, you’ve been spending a fair amount of time training.”

“I need the practice. After that fiasco with Talon, who knows when we’ll need to fight again?”

“You won’t be of any use if you’re suffering from exhaustion. I implore you to take better care of yourself,” she ordered calmly, watching him carefully.

“Haven’t had the time too. I just got the livestream set up to fund a new accelerator. That’ll be a few hours and happen pretty often. I had to organise something for Hana, too. During the in-betweens, I usually help Efi with the accelerator, manage both D.va and my fanbases, and do some alone streaming using D.va’s channel to try and get whatever other bits of cash I can.” Lúcio blinked as he counted his activities on his fingers. “Okay that’s a bit more than I thought, but it’s nothing I’m not used to handling.”

Mercy sighed. “How much sleep have you gotten these past few days?”  
The DJ shrugged. “Not keeping track.”

“Not much, I’d wager then. Before you do anything else today, please get some rest.”

“No can do, Doc,” Lúcio said as he shook his head. “I’m on a time crunch with this one thing I’ve been planning for a while. Then the stream is right after,” he sighed. “I’ll go to sleep right after that if it makes you feel better.”

The doctor nodded, satisfied. “Yes, please do that. There will be plenty of time to raise money afterwards. Although…” she looked to Lúcio sceptically. “How much do you think the accelerator costs? I find it hard to believe you’ll be able to make the money you need solely off of livestreaming.”

Lúcio waved her off. “Yeah, Efi and I compiled a list. It hurts to look at, but the only thing way out of our price range is the battery. It’s all fancy made for that crazy energy it uses.”

Mercy nodded. “Without that, she can still be stabilised, but you won’t be able to produce and hold enough energy to give it a wide area of effect. Not to mention, she will essentially be tethered to a charging port. If the harness weren't attached to it for more than perhaps ten seconds, she'd be back to how she is now.”

“Hey, it’s better than nothing. Efi said she might be able to figure something out when it comes to that, but right now we’re just trying to take the first step.”

“Very well. It seems you have everything planned out.” Mercy turned to leave, only for Lúcio to stop her, jumping off the bed.

“Hey, wait!” he called. She turned to him curiously. “Yes?”

“I’m going to see Hana right now. Wanna come? I’m hoping this will put her in a bit of a good mood. You can say hi before leaving too!”

The doctor thought for a moment. “Very well. That sounds like a good idea.”

The two of them made their way to the stabilisation chamber in comfortable silence. Mercy broke the discussion with some idle chatter.

“You two and Efi seem to be getting quite close lately. You act like good friends despite the significant age difference.”

Lúcio chuckled. “Ew, don’t say that. It makes me feel old. But yeah, I guess so. It’s hard to tell she’s twelve, to be honest. Her mind never stops working, and she’s cleverer… more clever? then half the people here. Not to mention, when you spend time on the Internet, you get used to age barriers being less important. I have good friends online of all ages out there. I guess it just isn’t as unusual to me.”

Mercy hummed. “That is certainly interesting. I suppose the easy availability of anonymity on the Internet can make it easier to hide your age initially, preventing that from impacting first impressions.”

“I guess if you wanna sound fancy about it,” Lúcio said with a chuckle.

The two of them turned a corner as the stabilisation chamber’s door came into view.

“What is it we’re going to see Hana for?” Mercy asked. “You’ve been quite vague about explaining.”

“Let me be vague for a little while longer, okay?” Lúcio said with a wink as the two of them approached the door the chamber. Just as Lúcio reached out to press the button, the door opened, and McCree blinked from within the room, nearly walking into the newcomers.

“Oh, howdy Agent dos Santos. Howdy Angel,” the cowboy greeted, his voice distant and distracted.

“Jesse!” Mercy greeted in delight. “Are you feeling any better than earlier?”

McCree smiled and rubbed the back of his head. “Yeah, I am. Gotta go see the commander now, though.”

“Are you in hot water now?” Mercy asked in amusement.

“Naw. Nothin’ like that. It’s about Lena though.” He sputtered, his eyes darting past them. Lúcio nodded.

“Ah, I gotcha. I hope you figure something out! We’re just here to see Hana, though. Is she…” he trailed off, not sure how to ask the question.

McCree shook his head. “Naw, she’s in there with Genji. I reckon she’s got a little while longer. Now I’m gonna go. Have fun in there,” he said, pushing past the two of them, hurrying down the hallway.

“I do hope he can figure something out about Lena while we’re gone…” Mercy mused before shaking her head. “This room always makes one feel odd, doesn’t it?” she asked as she stepped in. Lúcio couldn’t help but agree as a shiver ran up his spine. The strange, static air washed over him. Hana and Genji turned to the twosome, and once again Lúcio was struck by how strangely ethereal she appeared. Her entire body radiated a pink aura the matched the small devices in the ceiling, and her hair never seemed to sit still, always flowing and fading in a brown and pink cascade. She indeed appeared like a ghost from the movies.

Hana’s face lit up when she saw Lúcio. She jumped off the windowsill and bounded towards the twosome eagerly. The cyborg that had been nearby turned to face them as well.

“Greetings, Angela. Lúcio.”

“Hello, Genji,” the doctor greeted back, her voice warm and affectionate. She turned to Hana. “And hello to you, Miss Song. How have you been feeling as of late? Relatively speaking, that is.”  
Hana’s shoulders bounced in what must have been a chuckle. She merely smiled and shrugged. Mercy took that to mean something good as she smiled kindly. “I’m glad to see you’re in high spirits!”

Genji quirked his head. “You must be busy preparing to leave. What brings you here, doctor?”

“Lúcio, actually,” Mercy said as she stepped back, gesturing for Lúcio to show what he brought. Lúcio grinned as he set the communicator onto the windowsill.

“So, I had to ask Winston for this, supposedly it was specially made for Lena after she got her accelerator. I did some poking around, may have used your StarCraft account, sorry about that by the way, and I found a few certain people’s information! They cut training just for this!”

Lúcio pressed the button on the communicator, and it hummed to life. A red light flickered on next to a camera, and a large image, easily several feet’s length, projected upward. It was just a simple logo for several seconds until a girl’s face appeared.

“Hana! Is that you? Oh my God! You really **are** friends with Lúcio!” She had an accent that sounded similar to D.va’s, though her voice was a bit softer and more melodic.

“Whatup, Asi9?” Lúcio greeted as he waved from behind Hana, who covered her mouth with her hands. Although, their transparency didn’t do much to hide her smile.

Asi9 fiddled with her tangled hair, flustered. “Man, I knew Lúcio had contacted me but to think it was ACTUALLY you… ah, sorry, I’m getting off track! Uh…” Asi9 tipped her head back to one of the bunk beds in the background. “Guys! It’s Hana! Come on!”

Lúcio blinked as another MEKA pilot clad in a black and white suit stylistically identical to D.va’s jumped up from the bottom bunk and ran over to the screen.

“Jesus Christ, you weren’t kidding… it is Lúcio… Let me just say, if Hana didn’t look like _literal death,_ I would **so** be asking for your autograph! But Hana **is** looking like literal death, so I’ll just ask you to forward it to me later!” the boy said with a wink. Hana tipped her head back as her shoulders bounced with childlike mirth, even though no audio came out.

Lúcio smirked. “You got it, Q-Ball,” he agreed, carefully working to remember each pilots name in his head.

Another boy’s voice chimed in. “What’s this about death? Has it finally come to us with its sweet release?” he asked in mock eagerness. Then Lúcio finally saw his face as he draped himself over the top bunk, hanging upside down as he grinned at the camera. His suit was baby-blue and orange. His hair remained combed into spikes despite his hanging upside down, held together with copious amounts of hair gel.

“You wish,” Q-Ball snorted, “Anyway, Hana! Lúcio wasn’t kidding with the ghost thing! Wow…”

Asi9 giggled. “He totally thought you were a troll account.”

“Even after I checked the IP and such!” C6piders grinned from his spot hanging off the bed.

Lúcio just made an amused scoffing sound.

“Are you still doing that motion control game thingy that Lúcio’s been posting about?” Asi9 asked, her soft voice concerned but firm.

Hana nodded, moving her arm around as if to gesture she could still move fine.

“That is so freaky to look at!” C6piders noted, twisting his body to a slight angle for a better view, his arms hanging down and almost touching the floor.

“I wanna see you phase through something or else I say it’s fake!” Q-Ball egged Hana on, curiosity burning in his voice. Hana raised an eyebrow and smirked, sliding over to Lúcio as she jabbed at his head. He flinched away, stiffening as her hand plunged through his skull and appeared on the other end.

“Ack! How about some warning next time?” Lúcio shouted with no real anger in his voice. Hana beamed, enjoying the MEKA squad’s various expressions. Q-Ball gaped; C6piders laughed, which turned into a strained cry as he nearly fell from the bunk, catching himself at the last second. Asi9 wrinkled her brow in concern.

“Woah! Do you feel anything?” Q-Ball asked Lúcio in amazement.

“Really friggin cold. Other than that? No, not really,” he answered warily, watching Hana closely, who still seemed to be enjoying herself.

“That’s incredible! It’s too bad it’s so debilitating and difficult to utilise. Otherwise, it’d be an amazing party trick!” C6piders noted, rotating his arms to keep them from falling asleep.

Genji, who had remained out of the camera, stepped into the shot. “Although, once we make a new chronal accelerator, she will likely gain powers similar to Tracer’s.” His voice was cheerful, albeit his expression remained concealed.

“Holy shit! It’s Genji Shimada! From the Doomfist news ages ago! You look badass!” Q-Ball nearly shouted, slamming his hands onto the desk in front of them.

“That’s true, I do look awesome. My regards go to the doctor,” Genji bragged playfully. Mercy chuckled from her spot on the windowsill.

“Whatever the hell you have, Hana, sign me up for that if I get to meet these people in real life!” C6piders beamed from his bunk. Asi9 whipped around to chastise him.

“I don’t think you should joke about this!”

C6piders rolled his eyes. “Too soon? Ah whatever, the joke wouldn’t be funny if we didn’t all unanimously agree that the source material is horrible. Nobody ever jokes about good things.”

“What about love clichés? People joke about that!” she fought back, crossing her arms. C6piders snorted.

“Naw, we make fun of the fairy tales where the lovers know each other for two minutes and want to be married. Or when true love’s kiss comes from random Joe-Shmoe on a white horse with a crown. We make fun of the super fake parts of it, not love itself: same with everything!”

Hana waved her hand in front of her, tipping her head in agreement with her blue and orange squad member.

“He does have a point,” Q-Ball added, putting a shoulder on Asi9, who huffed indignantly.

“I was trying to be supportive!” she argued with a slightly embarrassed smile.

Lúcio laughed at the banter. These were arguments they’ve had before. Perhaps their dynamic had been a display for their fans’ amusement, and it had just become a mainstay for them.

“On a more serious note though,” Asi9 began. Her tone must have meant something to the other two since they immediately settled down. “What can we do to help? We get some money from our streams, but some cash is supposed to go to MEKA. We’ll send what we can for a new accelerator.”

“Oh boy! I smell a seventy-two-hour mega stream! We’ll have to get some of the other squads in on it too!” C6piders suggested, beaming. Despite being pale and transparent, Hana somehow managed to blanch, chuckling as she face-palmed.

“Excuse me, that sounds far from healthy.” Mercy commented, stepping into the shot.

“Doctor Ziegler too…” Asi9 muttered, impressed. She shook her head, grinning. “Uh, don’t worry! We don’t do it often!”

“MEKA hates it though! So, I mean, that boosts the frequency a sliiiight amount,” Q-Ball commented from beside her, spinning his gaming chair around.

“We always get a ton of coffee ready in the lounge. And we each get one break to sleep. It’s the best when we’ve got a bunch of the squads joining. We split the cash evenly and give about half to MEKA, but that still usually leaves a ton! People love those long stupid parties of despair and rage and bets that never pan out for everyone.” C6piders said, mock horror washing over his facial features. “See the legendary Smash incident…”

Hana seemed to shiver, rubbing her temples as she grinned.

Q-Ball huffed. “Okay look, seven stock level nines put on one team against you is NOT that hard if you know what you’re doing! I was **not** hacking!”

“You sure did get a lot of money from that though,” Asi9 remarked.

“I still say that Smash Ball right near the end was super suspect though,” C6piders teased, seemingly unaware that his face was going red from being upside down for so long.

“Oh, hush up!” Q-Ball shouted, enjoying the banter as she grabbed C6piders arm and pulled him down from the bunk. The blue and orange pilot shrieked, grabbing onto Q-Balls arm.

“Men going down!” he shouted as the two toppled to the ground in a heap. Groans followed from outside the shop. Asi9 shook her head and rubbed her temples.

Then there was a knock on the door. A frantic female voice chimed up, blabbering something in Korean, which Asi9 responded to similarly. Q-Ball and C6piders both lurched up.

“Oh, God dammit. MEKA’s getting pissy with us.” Q-Ball lamented, quickly putting on headphones and other paraphernalia for his uniform.

“Sigh. Alrighty, looks like we need to go. Sorry, D.va!” Asi9 apologised as the two boys scrambled for their gear from behind her. “I hope you get the accelerator soon! I’ll keep in touch with Lúcio in regards to what we can do to help!”

“Thanks a ton! I’ll keep an eye on my messages!” the DJ thanked.

“Aww! Why can’t I keep in touch with him?” C6piders whined as he slipped on a pair of white gloves.

“Because you’re an annoying fanboy?” Q-Ball suggested, earning punch to the shoulder.

“Anyway, see ya later, everybody!” Asi9 closed out. Hana waved as the projector turned off and the red light flickered out of existence.

“They seem fun,” Genji remarked after a moment of silence.

Hana was frozen in place with a soft and content smile. She turned to Lúcio and clasped her hands together, bowing in what must have been an expression of gratitude. Tears trailed down her cheeks, glitching and flickering as they fell to the ground. Dr Ziegler put her hand on Lúcio’s shoulder, nodding in approval. He nodded back.

“No problem, Hana. I hope it helped a bit,” he expressed earnestly. Hana nodded quickly. Lúcio grinned. “Now, how about that livestream?”

“It seems you all have your plans. I must be on my way to prepare for the meeting. Well done, Lúcio.” Mercy thanked as she turned to leave. “Goodbye, everyone.”

“Have a wonderful day, Angela,” Genji said with a nod. She beamed back at him.

“Oh! Genji! How about you join us? We’ll get Efi and Orisa, and have a great time.”

Genji thought for a moment. “Sure. I’m not nearly as wanted as Jesse is, so I’ll join. I bet I would rock at motion control games.”

Hana nodded in agreement, turning to lead the way. She only paused as she reached the door to the chamber, before shaking her head and passing through with fresh resolve. She would probably have a few hours tops. Better make the most of them.

…

“Hey, Dr Winston? Can I ask a question?” Efi said from the doorway to Winston’s lab. Orisa stood behind the girl, diligently watching for any trouble.

Winston, who was busily sweeping folders and other items into a briefcase, turned to her, surprised. “Of course, what is it, Miss Oladele?” his expression was carefully neutral as he closed the suitcase overflowing with documents, despite every file he could need likely being on a thumb drive.

“Why did Tracer stay Slipstream with Talon?” Winston flinched, gesturing for Efi to walk in. She sat on one of his benches. “I mean, I know they hurt her and such, but if that Sympathiser thing you mentioned really does remove her negative emotions, then she shouldn’t be scared of being tortured, right?”

Winston listened to her, swinging up to his tire as he pensively considered her words.

“Do you think Talon was lying to her? Maybe the sympathiser changed her memory, or it’s some sort of mind control device.”

Orisa listened intently, soaking in the conversation as she settled down by the stairs, her eyes flicking between the two. Winston shook his head. “No, I think Talon did exactly what they said. That device only blocks negative emotions.”

Efi hummed, kicking her feet from atop an empty portion of Winston’s lab. “But why then? She obeyed them because she was afraid they’d hurt her more, right? But she couldn’t be scared of that. And if her memories were not altered, she should still be able to remember her ideals and adhere to them enough to come back to Overwatch and get the sympathiser taken out.”

The gorilla tapped his chin, trying to figure out how to describe Lena’s situation. “Efi, why are you trying to help Hana?” he asked, gently rocking on the tire swing.

“What? It’s because I care about her! But what’s this got to do with anything?”

“But what if I told you care can technically be considered a ‘negative emotion?’ And because of that, Lena physically cannot care about anyone or anything?”

“I… I don’t understand. Care is good, right? So that’s a positive emotion to feel, and it wouldn’t be blocked!”

“No, care is an important emotion, not a ‘positive ones.’ Think of it like this. You said you care about Hana, right?” Efi nodded in response, fiddling with a few metal trinkets on the desk as she tightened and loosened screws.

“Well, define caring for her.”

Efi thought for a moment, wrinkling her brow. “Um… I think it’s like… thinking someone is important enough to you to be concerned for their well-being,” she decided with another nod.

Winston climbed down from his tire swing and grabbed a jar of peanut butter. “The keyword there is concern. Care is the concern for an individual. Now define concern.”

“To feel concern is to be worried, right?”

“Yes. Care is built from concern. Concern is equivalent to worry. Worry is based off fear. And the sympathiser is blocking any ‘fear’ stimuli. It’s the same thing with something like love. Love is an intense feeling of deep affection. That intensity stems from protectiveness and care. With protectiveness being rooted in something akin a deep-rooted fear at the concept of harm coming to that person in some way.”

Efi’s eyes widened as she fit the pieces together. “But if we’re following that train of logic, that would leave almost nothing except extremely primal emotions such as raw happiness, joy, maybe confusion and curiosity too. Other than that, though… there’s not much.”

Winston sighed sombrely. “Exactly. So by removing her ‘negative emotions,’ she’s left only able to be happy about whatever horrible things they make her do since it’s pretty much all she’s capable of feeling.”

“Why does she feel compelled to obey them, though? Something like respect could stem from the acknowledgement of being inferior in some regard, and being jealous or afraid to remain as such in some way. She shouldn’t be able to feel any respect that would lead her to obey them.”

Winston thought about that for a moment. “I think they accomplish that by dethatching her compulsion to obey from her emotions. By tormenting her, they reached a point where they could order her to do something, and she would instinctively obey in some sort of survival response until it became second nature. She doesn’t need to put consideration into her obedience.”

Efi remained silent for several seconds, absorbing what she was just told. “Then… how do we save her?”

Winston shook his head, wiping away yet another tear. “I’m not sure.”

Athena’s melodic voice interrupted the two, her voice almost reluctant. “My apologies for the intrusion, but Lúcio asked that Efi proceeds to the streaming room.”

“Thanks, Athena,” Efi called before turning to Winston. “Sorry, I gotta go I guess. Just… let me know if I can help! Maybe some of Orisa’s code can be useful since I added an emotion module like Omnics have!”

“Alright, Miss Oladele. Please be careful on your way there,” Winston said, swinging back up to his computer. He looked at the photo pinned to the device. It was a picture of Lena and him. She was smiling, her smile somehow lighting up the room through the image. Winston could only hope he’d get to see her genuinely smile again.

…

Slipstream devoured the food Sombra put in front of her, eating portions large enough to feed three men. It was the private kitchen for important Talon agents, so the entire room was empty, leaving just the two of them. The food tasted remarkable, never mind that it was only sandwiches. The burning hunger Slipstream hadn’t notice started subsiding immediately, and Sombra watched her in some mix of being impressed and shocked.

“You really do need to eat more often,” Sombra scolded as Slipstream finished the last of the food with a huge grin. “Consider it an order, if you feel you’re hungry, and you have the time, go ahead and eat.”

Slipstream nodded, the command imprinting itself upon her mind like a stamp. She watched the hacker curiously. Sombra was fiddling with her nails and kept looking to Slipstream like she wanted to say something, only to look away several seconds later.

Finally, Sombra spoke up. “Why are you staring at me like that?”

Slipstream blinked, not having noticed that she was staring at her. “My bad,” she responded directly, averting her shining eyes. Everything around her was tinted pink. It was nearly impossible to distinguish colours from each other. Slipstream vaguely remembered something about Reaper mentioning to her that the glowing eyes were a chemical designed to make it easier to tell when the sympathiser was activated.

“You can still look at me, I just wasn’t sure if you were staring at me for a reason,” Sombra remarked, sitting down at the table across from Lena. Slipstream laughed.

“No, I wasn’t ordered to stare at you, so I wouldn’t have a reason to! Jesus that sounds edgy, what with the whole ‘I act on orders and I’m an unfeeling weapon,’ thing I’ve got going, but I mean, that’s what it is so I guess I’m not helping.

“About that,” Sombra chewed her lip. “If you could do me a favour and not laugh at me or judge me for a moment, I need to talk to you about something.”

Do not laugh or judge. Slipstream dropped her smile and nodded, waiting for Sombra to continue.

“I want to apologise. For getting you into this mess,” she began, standing up and bouncing from foot to foot. “It’s because of me you first got chronal disassociation, and it’s my fault you got tortured by Reaper. So…. I’m sorry, feel free to just… say whatever you think about me now or something…” Sombra offered in some attempt at giving Slipstream permission to speak.

Slipstream thought about what Sombra said. She thought back on her previous memories of her condition regarding the glowing device on her chest, and about the suffering Reaper put her through.

She felt nothing. Slipstream could still vividly remember many of the dreams she had, the terror she felt, the pain she went through, all branded into her mind. She would never be able to forget these experiences. She could remember how much she cared about Winston, Jesse, Genji, and the rest of Overwatch, but that devotion no longer existed in her.

Countless memories would have caused an infinite amount of pain to recall. But now, Slipstream could finally be free of those heavy chains with the sympathiser in place. She could act and live and enjoy life without having to worry about hiding all the things she kept buried. She could obey orders without having to consider the consequences. Any consequences for her actions would not be able to hurt her anymore. There was no obligation to feel concern for anyone on a personal level. No ties were dragging her down and forcing her to take certain sides. Her only team was Talon. She only had to obey an order, and she and everyone around her would be satisfied. If anything, she had more freedom than ever thanks to all Sombra had done. Why Sombra would ask for forgiveness for releasing Slipstream like this was beyond her comprehension.

“Don’t be sorry. You deserve my thanks,” Slipstream finally said, the glow of her eyes reflecting back at her from Sombra’s pupils. “It’s because of you I’m like this, and I’ve never been happier in my life. There’s no more sadness and pain. It’s all so easy to do anything.”

The hacker stuttered, at a loss for words, trepidation thick in her voice. “But… it’s because of me you’re barely even a human anymore…”

Slipstream smiled. “I know. I’m not human anymore. And it’s incredible.”

 


	26. Social

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! I have a bit of a longer chapter ready for y'all! Thanks so much for reading this far into the story, and we're still nowhere close to the end! There's so much more in store for everybody, and I hope you all enjoy reading this fraction of the story left to tell! I know the past few chapters have been conversation-heavy rather than action heavy, but things are going to start picking up in the next couple of chapters. Anyway, let me know what you all think! Enjoy!

** Lost in Time chapter 26- Social **

“Alright everyone, we’re about ready to begin,” Lúcio announced to the group gathered in the room. An old motion control game was playing on the flat screen TV, with the various cameras to make the game work and for the stream were plugged into other devices; the chords were kept separate and easy to manage. The sofa the players usually sat on and the desk for the pcs had been moved to the back of the room, with a computer displaying all the stream stats and chat, which Orisa would be keeping a close eye on. At the moment, a screen displaying “The stream will start soon!” that had D.va’s bunny icon and Lúcio’s frog logo on it was all the viewers could see as some of Lúcio’s music played in the background.

Efi bounced up and down as she took a quick drink of the labelled water bottle she had grabbed for herself. Lúcio had one as well, though D.va and Genji didn’t need one. Genji was sitting on the sofa quietly, and Hana had changed back into the sweatshirt with her bunny logo that she had been wearing when she first removed the toy. She bounced up and down nervously, already beginning to feel the incessant pull of time strengthening, slowly but surely as it attempted to claim her again.

“Thirty seconds left until the stream timer runs out. The chat is very eager,” Orisa called out to the room. Lúcio nodded.

“Just give us a five-second countdown and start right away. Get ready people!”

Hana took a deep breath, the motion calming her nerves more than the breath itself. Thirty seconds left until all her fans would see her as a ghost. Lúcio put an explanation for her condition, and what the money was for below the game and facecams, so the chat would hopefully not ask many questions. D.va put on her smile and crossed her arms, facing the camera. Game face on.

Orisa soon began to count. “We begin in five… four… three… two… one… live.”

Lúcio jumped up immediately, grinning at the camera. “Hello to all of D.va’s awesome viewers! How’re you all today? Hope you don’t mind me doing the intro this time. Anyway, today we’re going to be streaming a collection of motion control games that use the cameras to track your body. We’ve already synced it to our positions, but let me introduce everyone before we begin!”

Lúcio stepped to the side, pointing to Orisa in the back of the room. The Omnic’s eyes changed into upside down V’s, giving her the appearance of a keyboard-typed smile as she waved. “Here we have Orisa, who’ll be rocking the computer for the time being!”

Orisa’s eyes turned to the monitor. “Oh, it seems people find my design to be ‘adorable!’ Credit goes to Efi for that!” she commented in a cheerful, harmonious voice.

“Speaking of Efi,” Lúcio began, changing his voice to sound like an overdramatic announcer. “We got the master builder herself, the mechanic that won’t panic, Efiiiiii!” he shouted eagerly as he pointed to the girl, who was laughing at Lúcio’s ridiculous introduction.

“Also, we’ve got a cyborg ninja. ‘Nuff said there,” he dropped to almost monotone, pointing nonchalantly to Genji, who pointed a finger gun at the camera.

“There is always ‘enough said’ in the words ‘cyborg ninja.’ My name is Genji, a pleasure to be here to destroy you all in these games.”

“Oh, some people recognise you from the Doomfist news coverage!” Orisa called to him. Genji nodded.

“I have an absolutely unforgettable appearance, after all.” He said in mock haughtiness.

“And finally, we’ve got this person here. You probably don’t know her so I won’t bother to introduce her,” he waved D.va off, turning to the game as she crossed her arms and glared at him in an overdramatic fury, playing it up to be funny. She stepped in front of him, glaring. He rolled his eyes, smirking. “Okay, fiiiiine! This is D.va. Anyway, game time! So, how about it? Wanna play me first?” Lúcio asked D.va. She nodded, radiating intensity.

“Game on,” she mouthed, clearly enough for Lúcio to understand.

He grinned. “Game on indeed! I will PROVE, once and for all, that I am the champion jet-skier!”

Five minutes later, D.va threw her fist in the air with a superior grin as Lúcio laughed.

“Come on! That was a cheap trick! I thought we were all above body-blocking with the NPCs! Seriously, how did you hit that guy to cause him to spin out INTO me?”

D.va crossed her arms and stuck her nose up. She turned her head away, not planning on sharing her secrets. Lúcio turned to Efi and Genji, who were sitting on the couch in the back of the room. “Hey, you guys try now!”

Efi cheered. “All right! Let’s go, Mr Cyborg Ninja!”

Genji snorted. “I like that. That’s my new name. Username too. Mr Cyborg Ninja. Do fanfiction websites let you change your username?” Hana couldn’t help but be curious as she remembered the dream she had with Genji during the Doomfist attack, and how Genji, at the time, had loathed even the word ‘cyborg,’ yet here he was now, making jokes about his form.

Lúcio raised an eyebrow. “Depends. What’s your old username though? And what fanfiction are you writing?”

“Both of those answers are unimportant, now come on, time to jet-ski,” Genji said in a rush. Efi bounded up to where he was, and the two began their game. Lúcio flopped back onto the couch. D.va remembered half a second too late that it was a bad idea for her to do the same. Lúcio jumped as Hana went to drop onto the couch, only to phase through the soft surface, the upper half of her body being hidden by the furniture. Since light didn’t go through the sofa, Hana almost thought she had disappeared with how abruptly light vanished.

D.va lurched out of the sofa, shaking her head as light flooded her vision again. She laughed nervously. “Woah, D.va! Are you okay?” D.va nodded to him off with an embarrassed laugh.

“The chat was quite surprised by that,” Orisa remarked. Please, be more careful, Agent Song.” Orisa chided.

Hana waved Orisa off, keeping a smile plastered on her face. Lúcio slid over to the computer and peeked at the chat, wrinkling his nose slightly. It was probably full of people downplaying the “ghost” aspect of her condition. It was strange, but she almost preferred it that way. Then her thoughts were rudely interrupted.

“ **What the Hell? How did you do that? God dammit!** ” Genji practically screeched, as Efi passed him and made his jet-ski spinout with a well-timed item-use.

“Now, watch your language, Genji,” Orisa scolded in a harsh tone.

“ **I’ll swear all I want, and I am NOT getting beaten by a twelve-year-old!”**

“Then how come I just passed the finish line?” Efi taunted with a cheer.

“I demand a rematch!”

“Alright! Want to try it on the dancing game?”

“Absolutely!”

Five minutes later, Efi stood panting but merry as Genji stood stunned as the scores appeared. “I… I can run alongside the wall of a building, and I get tired half as fast as a normal human, and I **lost** in a dancing game? Hacks! I call hacks!” Genji and Efi looked at each other meaningfully for a few seconds before bursting into laughter.

“No way! I couldn’t hack this if I tried!”

“That’s a lie! There’s no way you’d not know how to hack!”

“To be fair,” Lúcio added from his spot on the couch. “Genji has pretty terrible rhythm.”

“I do not!” Genji denied in vehemence.

“You do,” Efi agreed.

“Yup,” Lúcio said.

“Affirmative,” Orisa chimed in from the back. “The chat agrees.”

“Yes,” D.va signed quickly, wishing she knew some more sarcastic words.

The room could feel Genji’s glare through his mask as he slowly turned his head to everyone.

“My dancing is the **best** dancing, and I’ll prove it! D.va! You! Me! Right here! Endless mode!”

Lúcio raised an eyebrow. “Why D.va?”

“Because she can’t get tired! Hardest difficulty! Now let’s go!”

D.va smirked, nodding at the cyborg. She took her place, and the game began. A song started to play on the TV, and both she and Genji moved along to the rhythm without much trouble. The movement felt wrong and unsettling as she danced with no exertion whatsoever. D.va couldn’t help but wonder if that was how Genji felt at all times.

It didn’t matter how Genji felt, though. Because Hana won the game. It was pathetically easy. Genji lost the beat and ran out of lives within minutes, whereas Hana still had a perfect score. Genji roared.

“Okay, fine! If I can’t beat you in dancing, just wait until a mission! There we’ll have a competition for running on walls and ninja-ing over rooftops! Then we’ll see who’s the best!”

“Woah, D.va’s got some moves, though! Any chance I can play against you?” Lúcio asked, stepping up. “Not endless mode, though. We’ve got way too long left on the stream for me to bring myself halfway to death.”

Hana grinned, relishing the feeling of doing **something** , getting to play and do something she loved. Sitting around and only being able to think had been absolute torture compared to the bliss of playing games with friends. D.va threw her hands up in rhythm with the song, turning to Lúcio as he faced her likewise. The two stepped away from each other, bouncing back in the next second to the beat of the music. Efi clapped along to the beat from the couch, and Genji watched as he leaned against the wall. Despite his outburst, he seemed somewhat relaxed. The twosome continued dancing until the song ended with them both jumping with their arms splayed out. Efi clapped and cheered as Lúcio and D.va eagerly waited for the scores to display. Lúcio had won, passing D.va by only a few points and more precise moves. He grinned in pride as D.va beamed back in congratulations.

“Victory is mine! Efi! You wanna get in on this?” Lúcio asked the child. She squealed and bounced up as D.va backed up, letting the girl play against the DJ. They continued to play against each other, trading games and opponents for two or three hours. The room had no windows so Hana would not be able to tell what time it was. That didn’t matter though. She could feel the pull of time get stronger, and she knew she had to enjoy all the time she had.

Inevitably, the time did come when darkness began to creep in on her vision as Efi was defeating Genji in a bowling game. She turned to Lúcio, who was drinking water from his spot on the couch. Hana grimaced as she held up her hand and watched it begin to fade. Lúcio sighed and nodded, clearing his throat as Efi taunted a now-even-more-dejected cyborg ninja. The two turned to Lúcio, then to Hana. Efi’s eyes widened in panic, though Genji’s expression remained hidden.

“Well, everybody, I think we gotta call it for tonight!” he said cheerily to the camera. “Sorry about the abruptness! We’ve got to deal with stuff!”

“Uh, yeah, bye everybody! Thank you so much for watching!” Efi called out, bouncing back and forth on her legs in a panic.

“Vote for Genji as ruler of the world,” they cyborg closed out humorously.

“And the donations are most appreciated,” Orisa added from the computer.

Hana smiled, hiding her hands behind her back as she gave a short bow. “And we’re offline,” Orisa said a few seconds later.

Efi nodded quickly and ran over to Hana. “Come on! Let’s go! We can get back to the chamber!” she called, gesturing out the door. Hana nodded, though only made it to the doorframe before darkness started creeping in on her vision. She turned to the others, who were watching her pitifully. She wrinkled her nose and waved to them with what remained of her arm before returning to the void.

…

Lúcio sighed as he watched Hana vanish before him. He rubbed his eyes and sat back on the couch. His limbs felt weighed down by lead and Lúcio could have easily gone to sleep on the sofa. Before that, though, he plastered on another smile and turned to Orisa. “How did we do on donations?”

“I think you will be quite pleased! We reached the first goal, which should be enough to begin the basic components of the device needed for Agent Song,” Orisa said as she gingerly picked up and offered Efi a water bottle.

“Really? Awesome! I’ll be sure to order the parts right away!” Efi cheered. “If all goes well, we’ll be able to at least stabilise Hana! Though, until we get the battery and distributor, she’ll be tethered to the harness… but it’s something!” Her voice picked up considerably at the end. She yawned. “I’ll get started… right away!”

“Efi, it’s nearly three in the morning. It’s time for you to get some rest,” Orisa chided.

“No! I have to make the harness! The sooner, the better!”

“No offence, but you look like I could cover your eyes with my hands and you would pass out,” Lúcio added. Indeed, the girl seemed more than drained after all the exertion.

Efi snorted. “You’re one to talk. You’ve been getting less sleep than Genji,” she retorted.

“Hey, I told the doctor I’d sleep after this. So you will too!”

“Fine… fine… So… overall? That went well?” she asked, finally accepting defeat.

“I’d say so,” Genji said as he leaned against the wall.

“It was an extreme success. However, I avoided bringing it up, but near the end of the stream, the amount of questions concerning Tracer only increased.”

The mood suddenly got more sombre as Efi and Lúcio exchanged worried glances.

“I mean… what should we do about that?” Efi asked. “Won’t Talon reveal Slipstream to the public soon? The last anyone saw, they were hurting her on camera. Showing they got her to join them would be a victory celebration. And it’d hurt Overwatch.”

“True…” Lúcio said as he set his water bottle down. “But we’re in a lose-lose situation. We’ve got no leads to find out where she is, and definitely not the resources to capture someone who can control her own time.”

“Maybe D.va can help with that once we get the accelerator. Theoretically, she should be able to keep up with Slipstream, right?”

“Possibly, though I’m reluctant to ask her to do something like that. Wouldn’t that just make it look like we’re trying to create a new Tracer? Not to mention, after all Hana’s been through, it’s not exactly fair to ask her,” Lúcio argued, rubbing his temples.

“I dunno… I feel like we need to ask her, though. It’s the best shot we have at taking Slipstream down.”

“But Slipstream has been using her powers for years. Meanwhile, there’s no guarantee Hana will even get powers. I don’t see how D.va could beat her in a fight.”

Genji interrupted quickly, his words fast but quiet. “Excuse me, I need to leave. Thank you for inviting me to join the stream.”

“Wait, what?” Efi blinked, but Genji was gone the next instant. Her face fell. “I shouldn’t have said all that, huh?”

Lúcio shook his head. “I think we did step a line. Hard to remember that this is all a sore spot for him. I can barely tell what he really feels. He’s a pretty good actor.”

“Isn’t everyone here?” Efi asked in a hushed voice.

Lúcio closed his eyes. Those were some of the most accurate words he’s heard.

…

“Sir, ya wanted to talk to me?” McCree asked from Soldier 76’s door. The room inside held almost nothing of interest. It was a standard living quarters with no personal paraphernalia save a photo on one of the dressers. Soldier 76 was inside, dressed up in his red, white, and blue vigilante outfit.

“Only if you’re going to keep your head on straight,” the commander retorted, stepping past Jesse, heading in the direction of the hangar.

“My head is on perfectly straight, thank you,” McCree fought back, following the soldier.

“More like its screwed on so crooked that it’s become the new straight.”

“So, do ya have a lead on savin’ Tracer or not?” McCree cut to chase and dropped the small-talk.

“No, but I do have a lead for tracking down the lead for Sombra. You remember her, right?” Soldier 76 asked rhetorically.

“Fondly,” McCree spat, flexing the fingers on his prosthetic arm.

“Well, here then.” He handed Jesse a small slip of crumpled notebook paper from his pocket. McCree snatched it up and unfolded it. It was an address for a building in Dorado. “There’s a girl you’ll find there. A teenager. When she asks you what you want, just mention that ‘old habits die hard,’ and if you’re lucky, she’ll help you.”

McCree nodded and pocketed the slip of paper. “Thanks. I’ll put this to good use.”

“I don’t care when you search for her, but be smart about it please.” Morrison sounded more tired than anything as he said this, taking a turn at a sign labelled “hangar.” “Now, is there anything else you need?” he asked as McCree followed him for several more steps.

“I’d like to know somethin’,” McCree said, his voice lowered.

“About Oxton, I assume?” Jack stopped and turned to face Jesse. “I know you want to find her, and it’d be bad for all of us if she’s revealed to the public, but there’s only so much we can do.”

“Whaddya mean ‘so much we can do?’ We know how to track down one of her captors. Why ain’t we jumpin’ on that chance?” Jesse asked, glaring at the commander.

“Because we can’t devote all our resources to hunting her down. If we send another four ships to the girl’s house, we’ll attract too much attention. Not to mention, we’ve got other things we need to prioritise. Otherwise, we won’t be helping anyone _except_ Oxton. And that’s assuming everything pans out.” Morrison retorted, crossing his arms.

“Why ain’t we sendin’ at least a few people?”

“Because I figured you’d be the one to want to handle it, and you’ll have more than enough people soon,” Soldier 76 said. McCree blinked.

“Pardon? Genji and me ain’t nearly enough to take on Talon.”

“Perhaps, but if Agent Song is back in proper condition soon enough, you’ll have three people that know their way around a computer and a crowd. If anyone can at least track down her location, it’ll probably be you lot.”

“Then why didn’t ya tell us to do that yet?!” McCree snapped, clenching his jaw.

“Because Agent dos Santos and the kid have to prioritise Agent Song first. I’m sure you can understand that. You and Genji can feel free to sneak off and track down Sombra, but I suggest waiting before trying to enlist their help,” Soldier reasoned. McCree huffed.

“Why not leave us with someone else to help too, then? Seems to me everyone is bein’ mighty calm about all this. Ain’t no sense of urgency.”

Soldier 76 grunted, rubbing his temple. “You know as well as I do that when you gamble, especially when you have a bad hand, you need to keep your cards close to your chest and not let anyone see past your expression. Panicking and making a huge deal over this would be surrendering control over our actions to Talon. By going to the meeting or to Russia to fight, we’re communicating that we still have control over what’s going on. It makes it harder for Talon to predict us, and to predict you and Genji and the rest of those kids. You know that a smaller group is easier to hide.”

McCree stuttered for a moment as he gathered his thoughts, processing his boss’ words. “But nobody here seems even phased.”

“That couldn’t be further from the truth. You only paid attention to those that didn’t react as much at the debriefing. Winston was a wreck and could barely focus. Agent dos Santos and the doctor were stressed. Shimada’s not been the emotive type ever since he found that Omnic, but I’m sure you know how he was feeling more than I did.”

Soldier 76 turned to Jesse. “Besides, from what I’ve heard, you’ve been somewhat nonchalant around Agent Song.

“That’s different, and ya know it,” McCree shot back. “I dunno how she’s handlin’ bein’ lost in time. There’s no tone of voice to listen to or nothin’ to tell if she’s lyin’ when she says she’s all good. Least I can do is keep the optimism up.”

“And what’s to say others here aren’t doing the same thing? You should know this line of work comes with the ability to act. This place would be a mess if everyone’s emotions went unchecked.”

McCree snorted. “Ain’t that the truth. This place woulda been razed to the ground had I expressed the full extent of what I felt. I can only imagine what Genji woulda done all them years ago.”

Morrison groaned. “That would have been the actual death of me. Shimada never was a fan of mine.”

The two reached the entrance to the hangar, where several agents were loading particular items onto several ships, such as extra ammunition onto the planes headed towards Russia or small bags of luggage with extra clothes and HoloVids for those going to the meeting. “Regardless, just don’t be stupid.  I don’t care when, how, or if you track down Sombra, but I know you know how to keep your shady business out of the public eye. So just do that.”

McCree rolled his eyes and leaned against the hangar doorway. “The public and I ain’t exactly on speakin’ terms anyway.”

“Trust me, I know how that feels,” Morrison agreed. “Also, when was the last time you slept? Just wondering. Ziegler just went to check on Lúcio for that very reason. I wouldn’t suggest passing her with those bags under your eyes.”

“I could fall asleep right here right now.”

“Then go do that. You have time.”

McCree sighed. “Yes, sir. Try not to die while you’re out there.”

“Death and I aren’t on speaking terms either yet. I think I’ll be fine.” Without any more fanfare, Soldier 76 left to board a dropship without the Overwatch logo on it.

McCree looked to a nearby HoloVid displaying the time. Eleven PM. If dos Santos and Hana were doing that stream soon, Genji might have joined in. Deciding he had nothing left urgent to do, McCree went to bed.

…

Sombra groaned in irritation as she shut off her programs and erased any trace of having been in Athena’s systems. She didn’t know how Morrison had gotten Alejandra’s information, but that did nothing but complicate things. Two more people after her did not bode well. Still, it was nothing she couldn’t handle with a little time. Sombra began typing some new lines of code into her hacking program. It was likely the cyborg did something to strengthen his security after the incident in Gibraltar, but a few hours of extra typing could easily circumvent that.

Her intercom buzzed to life. Sombra jumped, and the voice of Doomfist made her begrudgingly set her programs aside.

“Sombra. I need to speak with you in the briefing room immediately.”

The hacker winced, remembering Reaper’s comments on her “friend.” She pressed the button on the intercom and sighed.

“Man, I don’t even get any small talk? Just orders? So boring. Whatever, Akande. I’m on my way.” Thoughts began to spiral through her head. She must not have done an excellent job at hiding her interactions with Katya. She’d need to be more careful with her other targets. Especially her more recent ones. She could get into so much trouble so quickly.

“Quickly, please. There are important matters to discuss,” Doomfist prodded.

“Alright, alright. Be there in five,” she responded with a sigh.

Shaking her head, Sombra hurried to throw off her casual wear and don her uniform, sliding on her gloves as she walked out the door.

She thought about how she’d need to act as she walked. Sombra acting surprised would be horrible, implying she was trying to keep her interactions with Katya a secret. She’d be best off playing it straight in that regard.  Perhaps removing her communicator wasn’t the best way to quiet Reaper. She probably should have destroyed the comm, that way he could have assumed she was fighting. It was foolish of her to remove it like she did. What else did Reaper know about? She must have been raising suspicion with all her protesting to converting Tracer. She would need to be extremely careful to make sure she didn’t cross Talon in any way.

The door to the room Akande told her he’d meet her opened as she stepped near it, and she strode through, making sure to keep her expression bored.

“Alright, watcha need, Doomfist?” she asked. Doomfist currently didn’t have the actual gauntlet equipped. Instead, he was wearing a standard Talon shirt and casual pants as he sat at the end of the table.

“Please, take a seat,” he said in a voice that almost mirrored kindness. Sombra quirked an eyebrow and did as he said, kicking her feet up on the table as she leaned back in the uncomfortable metal chair.

“As I have been informed, you are in contact with Katya Volskaya, right? She’s a friend of yours, no?”

Sombra barked a laugh. “She’s a ‘friend’ all right. Why?”

“You’re fully aware of how we need one of the Svyatogor mechs, I’m sure.”

Sombra nodded as she began to understand where the conversation was going. “Yeaaaaah. I mean, those things are easy as can be to hack into, but not exactly to steal. They’re massive.”

“Which is precisely why we’ve set our sights on the newer models.”

“Ohhh, you mean the one that clobbered Gabe,” she chuckled. “Much more reasonable goal. Now we’re going after a mech that’s only the size of one small building!”

Doomfist folded his hands under his chin. “Which is exactly why we’re not going to steal it.”

The hacker blinked. “Um… kay.”

Doomfist chuckled. “I assume you know what you’re going to ask you to do next.”

“Probably, but do go on,” Sombra waved, rolling her eyes as she fiddled with her nails.

“It would infinitely simplify things if you could call in a few favours to get us one of those mechs. I would be happy to collect all the ‘goods’ so long as you can strike the deal.”

“Fine, fine, whatever you say. I can do that easily enough. I’ll let you know about the details as soon as I work them out. When do you want to be able to pick the mech up by?”

Doomfist thought for a moment. “Given you’re going on the mission to that lab soon, I’d prefer you arrange it all beforehand so I can pick it all up while you’re gone. After that, we’ll go to the Underworld.”

Sombra yawned. “That’ll be a party. We’ve got a few days until then, right?”

Akande nodded. “Yes, and if you could,” he began, making it clear she was receiving orders, “do check in on Moira to make sure she’s putting that technology you have to good use. We both know of her habits to go off on her own projects.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” the hacker rubbed her temples. “Sometimes it’s impossible to ever get what you need from her. Anyway, do you need anything else, or can I go back to what I was doing?”

Doomfist quirked his head. “What are you doing that is so important?” he asked, almost innocently. Sombra made a mental note to punch herself later for arousing suspicion.

“I was just doing a tune-up on my tech, in case we need to pick a fight soon.”

Akande stared at her for a long moment, assessing her. Sombra got the feeling he didn’t buy it, but perhaps he was trying to find what kind of lie she was spouting. After a while, he nodded.

“Very well then. Thank you for the help.”

Sombra waved with her back to him as she left the room with a new list of things to do.

Just great. Sombra needed another monkey wrench thrown into her plan. Who knew Slipstream would make things so complicated?

Sombra shook her head as she returned to her room and threw off her gloves. Her computer was as she left it. The hacker decided to check something as she opened up a Twitch page in her browser. Sure enough, D.va was livestreaming as the agents around the base had been mentioning. The ghost was currently facing off against the Oladele child in some sort of sports simulator game. Underneath the footage was a meter tracking the amount of donations going towards a new chronal accelerator. Supposedly, they were going for milestones that could be used to gradually make a harness. There was no way the number on the screen took into account the fancier parts of the device.

Sombra quickly opened up another tab on her computer and made a new Twitch account under a fake name. After checking one of her bank accounts to make sure the money in it was adequately laundered, she donated a few thousand to the stream. She wasn’t even sure why she felt compelled to do so. Her donation appeared on the stream a few seconds later, and the meter shot up a significant amount. Sombra closed out of the window just as Orisa announced her donation. After making sure her browser history was wiped, Sombra went back to working on her code for the cyborg without devoting much thought to what she just did.

…

Widowmaker knocked on the door to Slipstreams room. It was reasonably close to her own quarters, but the lock on it wasn’t a retinal scanner like Widowmaker had, on account of Slipstream’s eyes.

“Coming!” A cheerful voice echoed from the other side of the door. A few seconds later, there was the distinct sound of the electronic lock releasing as the door slid open, revealing Slipstream. She was still wearing her combat uniform, though it was likely not the same pair of clothes as before, given Widowmaker had been given multiple of her uniforms. “Heyo Widow! How’s it going? What do you need?” her voice was pleasant and unbothered as her eyes shone bright enough to illuminate her face.

“You lack stamina. We’re going to train,” Widowmaker said with her arms limp at her sides, her sniper rifle absent from her back.

Slipstream raised an eyebrow. “I lack stamina? What do you mean? I went strong for quite a while there!”

“You were suffering from exhaustion. I could tell. Now come on. Leave your weapons.”

Slipstream blinked in surprise and unlatched her holsters from her belt as she tossed them haphazardly onto her bed. “Alrighty then. You’re the boss.”

Widowmaker nodded. “Good, now come.” She began walking down the corridor; Slipstream hurried to blink past Widowmaker and turn to face her as she walked backwards.

“So what exactly are we doing in this training if I don’t get to shoot stuff?”

“Simple exercises, though enough to wear on us.”

Slipstream rolled her eyes and smirked. “Gee. I wonder what sort of event could have been damaging to my health to cause me to not be able to run as long.” She raised an eyebrow. “Wait… what’s up with you? Shouldn’t you be in better shape than me?”

The assassin shook her head. “On the contrary, I tire quicker due to my genetic modifications. It’s rare for Talon to put me on long missions because of this.”

“Hmm. Weird! It felt like you could go on forever when we fought in King’s Row… Man, that feels like ages ago!”

“A couple months,” Widowmaker confirmed in monotone. “And that mission lasted only a few minutes. My limit is usually three or four hours if I want to be in good health by my return.”

The twosome continued walking. Slipstream smiled at one of the grunts they passed. He hurried off as she chuckled. “Really? Weird, I wouldn’t have pictured it. What do you do when you run out of stamina, though?” she asked curiously, her pink eyes wide and curious.

“I will alert Talon over the communication devices, and continue doing what I can for as long as I can.”

“Ah, shoot ‘til you drop, huh? I can relate,” she laughed merrily. “Is it like that ‘lack of self-preservation’ thingamawhatsit you mentioned on the ship?”

Widowmaker nodded. “Yes. I’m sure you can relate to the feeling.”

The peppy Brit paused for a moment, contemplative. “You mean that bugging itch to stick to the missions and orders at all costs? I kinda just chalked it up to being excited. Honestly, this whole no-negative-emotion thing feels strange to me, not gonna lie.” Slipstream chuckled again and rubbed the back of her head before continuing on. “I gotta ask. What’s the whole ‘no emotion’ thing like for you?”

“Well, I am, in fact, still capable of feeling some emotions, though I’m inclined to believe they’re fairly muted. I don’t remember much of what proper emotions feel like anymore, given it’s been so long. However, I can often choose to ignore and disregard what little I feel in its entirety, and I have a habit of doing so on missions,” Widowmaker continued onward, unbothered.

“Really? I thought they wanted you to be completely emotionless,” Slipstream admitted.

“They did. But so long as it does not impede my performance on the battlefield or bring my loyalty to Talon into question, they have no problems with leaving me as I am.”

“Hmm. I guess that does explain the super sinister laugh of whatever the heck that was back in King’s Row. Do orders just kinda take you over, though? Like, you can’t really think about much more than that?”

The assassin nodded. “Correct. Though, that is likely a direct result of whatever they decided to code into my mind during the reformation process. Whether that was a result of the torment or actual genetic alteration, I couldn’t tell you. I can only recall select details from the incident.”

Lena hummed as she spun in a small circle where she was standing before meandering forward again. “Really? How come?”

“My mind likely shut down during the torment, and perhaps I didn’t commit most of that to memory as a coping mechanism during the initial ‘brainwashing.’ It wasn’t until after I returned to Talon that they began the process of properly erasing my emotions. By then I’d likely driven most memories from my mind.”

“That’s so… weird. I can remember most everything from my time in the funhouse room of joy and happiness. I mean, there are a few blurry bits here and there, but most of it’s pretty vivid. I wonder if it has to do with some of the dreams I’ve had before being about the same level of violence…” Lena mused for a moment. Then she blinked and looked to Widowmaker, who watched the hyperactive girl in indifference. “It’s so strange. All of this. Part of my mind knows this isn’t something you just talk about all nonchalantly during a morning stroll to get some exercise, yet it doesn’t really bother me. It’s so hard to describe! All of this, I mean.”

Widowmaker remained silent for a moment. “I admit I have continued to need to use discretion as to what is and is not socially acceptable during interactions with superiors. There is a certain sense of relief in talking to someone who shares the same lack of concern for topics of conversation.”

“Wait, really? You’re the only ‘emotionless agent’ here? I mean, maybe except for me now. Or kinda me. Whatever. I had kinda assumed cases like yours were more commonplace.”

“On the contrary, most genetic alterations are voluntary. One of the few exceptions to that being me, who Talon captured just to reach my husband, and that Omnic you fought in the Pit, that tried to double-cross Talon. And you, of course.”

“We’re the exception, not the rule you mean? That’s… actually surprising!” Slipstream giggled, childlike mirth in her voice. “Rules are boring anyway! But man, I don’t think I’ll ever get over how weird this is for me now! I mean, obviously, I’m perfectly happy where I am right now, but like, literally a month ago, I hated you all. Now I’m having a conversation with you about emotions and stuff, and it’s just so weird!”

“If you don’t mind me asking, which you don’t, I’m certain, why are you ‘perfectly happy’ here? It seems to me like you could easily return to Overwatch if you wanted to so,” Widowmaker asked.

Slipstream wrinkled her brow, deep in thought as she considered the question. “I never really thought about going back to Overwatch. I don’t want to go back. If I were to run back to them, they’d try to take out the sympathiser. And I need it. I won’t be able to fight without it, and if I can’t fight, then I’m as good as useless. Not to mention, I take orders from Reaper.”

“So you stay because you’re ordered to do so?”

“Pretty much,” Lena admitted with a shrug. “Not exactly noble, but I can’t exactly care about that.” Lena turned to Widowmaker and quirked her head with a raised eyebrow. “So, what about you? If that mission back ho- I mean at King’s Row,” she corrected hastily. “was anything to go by, then you could probably escape Talon pretty easily.”

“I think you of all people should know how that would go, given you have to wear that device on your chest,” Widowmaker gestured to the neon pink chronal accelerator strapped to Lena’s chest. “In crowded areas, for short periods of time, most people would leave me be. But if I were to try to find someplace to settle, people would take notice of my skin colour and begin to ask questions. Sure, I could try to conceal my skin with short-term techniques similarly to how you might be able to wear a coat, but Talon could also track down my location with relative ease. My only source of funds comes from a bank account Talon keeps a close eye on. Leaving them would be depleting myself of any money. So, I could escape Talon, yes, but I would be fleeing from them for the rest of my life, never able to find a place to truly call home, never having any money and never being able to live in comfort. Therefore, Talon is my home. I do not mind it here, and I am treated well enough; I have no reason to leave and nothing better to go back to.”

Lena hummed, slowing down her trot to a regular walk as she fell in line with Widowmaker, thoughtful. “I’m sure Overwatch would try to help you,” she said, then blinked, surprising herself with her words.

“Interesting. You still have feelings concerning Overwatch.”

Slipstream barked a sudden laugh. “Sure, I guess, but not enough to act on them, if betrayal is what you’re worried about!”

“I know,” Widowmaker said. Her voice softened. “I fully understand. Regardless, no. Overwatch would not help me. I murdered one of their high-ranking officials. They know I did so. They see me without the rose-tinted glasses with which they see you. You haven’t done anything to properly upset them yet. But once you’re revealed to the public, and you fulfil orders that Talon issued you, you are a villain to them.”

“You think so? I guess that makes sense. Overwatch has taken in the less-than-noble before, but the only one who was a huge fan of the shadier recruits at first was Gabriel. People like Jesse had to warm up to Morrison and Amari. I suppose I’m nearing the point of no return then, right?” She snickered and resumed her faster gait as the twosome approached the training area.

Widowmaker nodded. “Frankly, you are. I find it unlikely Overwatch will do much to get you back on their side once your reputation with the public is tarnished.”

“You’re probably right,” Slipstream admitted after a moment. “When will the big reveal be, anyway? I know I’m going to Numbani in a few days, but that just seems anticlimactic.”

Widowmaker thought for a moment. “Probably when we go to King’s Row. Fairly ironic, no?”

Slipstream giggled as she blinked ahead into the gym portion of the training area, equipped with basic exercise items such as treadmills and weights; it noticeably lacked in anyone actually training. Lena spun around to face Widowmaker, her shining eyes eager. “No kidding. That’s where everything seems to like to come full-circle! I wonder how the public will react! Aw man that’ll be a show!” Slipstream laughed. “I can hardly wait!”

…

Slipstream sat on one of the bench-presses while she drank a bottle of water. Widowmaker was standing nearby doing the same. A thin layer of sweat covered both of them, though Widowmaker was breathing considerably harder.

“Man, you look exhausted,” Slipstream commented helpfully. Widowmaker rolled her eyes.

“Blame the scientists that lowered my heart rate,” she shot back, standing back up as she tossed the water bottle into a trash can. “Not to mention how hot this room is.”

Slipstream blinked. “What do you mean? The AC here isn’t half bad.”

“It isn’t to you, but a room feels much warmer to me than it does to you.”

“Okay, fair point,” Slipstream admitted. She got back up as well and headed back to the treadmill, stretching her prosthetic. She had just turned the machine back on and began running again when someone else entered the room. Widowmaker turned to greet the newcomer.

“Slipstream! There you are! Oh, my favourite spider’s here too,” Sombra tacked on, making Widowmaker roll her eyes. Slipstream continued running on the treadmill, though turned to face the hacker.

“What do you need?” Widowmaker asked. “I hardly see a reason for you to be in here.”

“Reaper sent me. He said Slipstream is due for a tune-up. Or her prosthetic, at least.”

Slipstream immediately shut off the treadmill and hopped off as she responded with a curt, “You got it,” her voice relatively flat, though still bouncing with more pep than most would respond with. “Thanks for the workout, Widow! I had a good time!” Slipstream beamed at Amélie before blinking off.

With Slipstream gone, Sombra turned to Widowmaker. “Also, do you think we could talk about something later? Whenever you’re done here, that is?”

Widowmaker narrowed her eyes. “What about?”

Sombra rolled her eyes. “So suspicious. I just want to get your opinions on some things, that’s all.”

“I don’t see why you’d ask someone incapable of feeling emotion for their opinion,” she retorted.

Sombra jumped as Slipstream blinked back in. “Hey, yeah, sorry to ask, but where exactly did Reaper say he wanted to meet me?”

“Oh, in the science wing. Don’t ask me why.

“Look, I promise I’m not up to anything right now. I just want to talk,” Sombra insisted, her voice tired.

Widowmaker’s expression neutralised, perplexed by Sombra’s seriousness. “Very well. I’ll be in my quarters. Feel free to come by in half an hour.”

Sombra nodded appreciatively. “I’ll be there, then. Thanks.” The hacker left the curious spider alone in the room to wonder what that could have been about. It was rare for her to address Widowmaker so bluntly and plainly. Something must have been on her mind. Why she would seek answers in Widowmaker was beyond her.

…

“Slipstream, I’d like you to meet Moira.” Reaper introduced Slipstream to the woman next to him. She was wearing a lab coat with a standard talon uniform underneath. She was a redhead with brushed-back yet still semi-chaotic hair and a silver patch on her eye. She seemed calm as she smiled; like she knew she had everything under control.

“Ah, Agent Slipstream, I’ve heard much about you. It is a shame we never got to meet back in Overwatch. It would have been wonderful to be able to compare your behaviour from before and after Talon got their hands on someone like you.”

Slipstream remained quiet as she sat atop one of the benches in the lab.

“Not very chatty, is she?” Moira asked Reaper. He chuckled darkly.

“She’s extremely ‘chatty.’ I’ve just taught her how to hold her tongue.”

“I see. Well, that shouldn’t be a problem. Regardless, I had you brought here so that I may check how your prosthetic is working. He’s also asked that I add a new piece of technology to it, but that’s nothing you need to worry about.”

Slipstream’s expression remained neutral as the scientist talked. “Though I do need you to tell me, has there been any aspect of the prosthetic that makes it more difficult for you to function properly?” She held a clipboard and pen, waiting for the girl to speak.

Slipstream blinked, looking to the leg as she kicked it, thinking for a moment. I haven’t thought about it too much, but sometimes it feels a bit desynchronised from my real leg. Like it goes faster.”

Moira scribbled something down. “I suppose that’s not unusual for someone who exerts themselves so often. It’s because your real leg can get tired, but the prosthetic doesn’t. I can fix that with relative ease. Now, please remain still while I remove the prosthetic.” Moira grabbed onto the prosthetic clasp and pressed several switches on it. The prosthetic came loose, revealing wires attached to the clasp that she began to detach quickly and efficiently. Slipstream slowly started losing the feeling of the prosthetic until it was removed entirely. Moira flipped it over in her grasp. Slipstream figured she might have found it unnerving if she was capable of feeling so.

“Thank you. Please wait here. I will be back in a few minutes with the changes and upgrades. Please wait here.”

Slipstream nodded and ran her hand across the prosthetic clasp idly. Reaper snickered. “Miss your old leg?”

She shook her head. “Not really, no. I can’t ‘miss’ anything,” she responded, matter-of-fact.

“Good. I’m glad to see the sympathiser is working. Is it to your liking?” he asked, as though he didn’t already know the answer.

Lena nodded immediately. “Yes, sir. I doubt I would be any use without it,” she admitted. “And being able to just take orders and not need to worry about what they are is unbelievably… freeing. I can just enjoy everything this way.”

Reaper nodded approvingly. “Perfect. You’re going on the Numbani mission in a few days. Shortly after that, it’s off to King’s Row for another mission.”

“Yes, sir. Widowmaker told me that’ll probably be when I finally get to enter the public eye. Is that true?”

“Yes. Most of us are going to be focusing on our target in the Underworld. You’ll be making as big of a show as you can. The world is going to meet Slipstream from the business end of your pistols.” Reaper crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. Slipstream beamed.

“Finally, some action! I can’t wait! Nobody’ll know what hit ‘em! Or… everybody will know what hit them? Who knows, you get my point!” she said as she bounced up and down from her spot on the bench.

“Yes, I do. Be ready, Oxton. Preparations for Talon’s plan is underway, and you play a vital role.”


	27. Future

**Chapter 27- Future**

_Sombra sat back in the chair in the mess hall, sipping her cup of coffee as Widowmaker sat across from her cross-legged and cold. There were a few people around, though at the early hour it still wasn’t busy. Sombra glanced at the nearby HoloVid displaying the date, time, and the Talon logo. In her opinion, four A.M. was always entirely too early to get agents together for a mission. Widowmaker also had a cup of coffee, though it was much smaller and lukewarm at best._

_“I do not appreciate how you called me to your chamber six days ago, then go silent until an hour before we leave for Numbani,” Widowmaker said as she took a slow sip of her drink._

_Sombra sighed. “Okay, yeah, I know. I_ wanted _to talk with you, but then Doomfist asked me to hurry up with getting some other targets secured, so I had to spend all night trying to get into Volskaya’s systems. Then I had to get into Helix because noooo having had a Raptora suit to go through wasn’t enough, I also needed to find info on their security systems and schedules. Long story short, I had to get files directly from another Raptora suit that had a direct connection to the database for a split second then erase any trace of me being there because seriously, I almost got myself caught red-handed on at least six different occasions. Then I crashed for a bit and **then** had to go make sure Slipstream was alright, and surprise surprise, she hadn’t eaten again, so I had to deal with that. Then Moira needed some help with me regarding the explosives we have, and it was just a mess.” Sombra put her hand on her head after her tangent. “So, I’m sorry about making you wait, if that’s any consolation,” she sounded more tired than anything as she rubbed her temples. _

_“Well, we’re talking now, so please make it worth my time,” Widowmaker said as she set her coffee cup down._

_“I just need some context is all.”_

_Widowmaker scoffed. “You’re going to need to be more specific than that if you want me to tell you anything useful.”_

_“What is it like, not having emotions?” Sombra asked. “How do you prefer to be treated?”_

_“Why the sudden interest in my psyche? You’ve certainly never cared before,” Widowmaker said, tilting her head._

_“I mean with Slipstream and how she can’t feel any negative emotions. I just don’t know what she would want or how I should act around her.” Sombra tapped her fingertips on the table._

_“Why do you even care?” the sniper asked, looking bored as she spoke._

_Sombra stuttered. “I- I dunno. I guess I just want to make sure she’s happy, but she’d never tell me if something was wrong.”_

_“That’s not something you need to worry about. She can’t feel anything except ‘happy,’ remember?”_

_The hacker wrinkled her nose. “Sure, but shouldn’t there be a difference between, like, her default happiness and being actually happy?”_

_“I wouldn’t know,” Widowmaker stated bluntly. “I don’t feel anything significant after all.”_

_Sombra hummed. “Do you ever wish you could?” she asked after taking another sip of coffee. “Do you wish you could feel emotions, that is?”_

_The assassin paused, staring at Sombra like she had never been asked the question, which she probably hadn’t, Sombra realised. “I could not answer that question,” she admitted after a moment. “I belong to Talon. Therefore, I am little use to them if feelings clouded my judgement. I don’t remember much about how emotions impact my thought process, but I see it as nothing but a debilitation to my on-field performance.”_

_“And what about your ‘out-of-field’ performance?” Sombra continued impatiently._

_“I am indifferent. I want what Talon wants for me.”_

_“Oh, cut the bullshit. We both know you have more autonomy than you like to admit. You’re just obedient to the people that matter.”_

_“You overestimate me,” Widowmaker explained. “I feel next to nothing. It takes an effort to stir myself the slightest amount. I am not burying some cache of emotions that I keep hidden.” She took another sip, her eyes closed._

_“Do you ever get sick of that, though? Doesn’t that make life feel super grey and dull? Like what reason do you have to get up in the morning?” Sombra mused, taking the last drink of her coffee._

_“The mission is my reason,” Widowmaker said as she pushed her mug up on the table and folded her hands in her lap. “If I did not belong to Talon, then there would be an issue. However, with things as they are, I’m able to function perfectly fine on my own since I have orders to follow.”_

_Sombra sighed and rubbed her forehead. “Okay. Question time. Obviously, this is theoretical since I have neither the authority or permission to do so, but how would you react if, say, Moira came up to you and said ‘We are changing nothing about you except that we’re returning your emotions to you during downtime between missions. Do you want this?’ What do you say?” Sombra asked, fiddling with her nails._

_Widowmaker froze and stared at the table, her brow furrowed. “I… I don’t know,” she admitted, her voice cracked. Sombra’s eyebrows shot up._

_“Why so uncertain?” Sombra softened her voice._

_“I don’t know…” she repeated, her voice laced with raw confusion._

_“You don’t know? How do you not know? I mean, if you don’t have emotions ‘clouding your judgement,’ you should be able to view things from a completely logistical viewpoint, right?” Sombra argued, sitting up straighter in the chair as she watched her co-worker. It was like watching a child try to understand computer code with no prior practice._

_“I can’t… I shake the idea. Getting my emotions back seems like a luxury, but I don’t know how I would act with them. If I regained them, there would no doubt be pain, and that’s a conflicting thought, though mental pain is no more than a concept to me. I have to wonder what it feels like… but what does it feel like?” Widowmaker’s eyes were unfocused as she rambled. She seemed unaware that Sombra was even watching her. Her voice was fascinated yet quick and sceptical._

_Sombra tilted her head. “Are you… worried? Worried about how getting your emotions back would affect you?”_

_Widowmaker shook her head. “Worried is the wrong word. Concerned is more fitting, or perhaps cautious.”_

_“And confused. Very, very confused,” the hacker added in dry wit. “So, what’s the main thing stopping you from immediately saying yes to emotions?”_

_Widowmaker rolled her eyes at Sombra’s jab before resuming her contemplative look. “Likely the fact that it may permanently alter my performance, and I couldn’t tell you how I’d react.”_

_“That… alright, yeah. I think that’s all I needed to hear. Thanks for sharing,” Sombra said as she stood up and grabbed the two mugs._

_Widowmaker nodded, once again donning her blank expression. “It is no problem. Of course, I’d appreciate you not share this information with our superiors.”_

_“Sure. I’ll go put these in the kitchen, and once I come out, I’ll be back to getting on your nerves at every opportunity,” Sombra grinned as she strode over to the kitchen._

_“Spare me,” Widowmaker deadpanned. “I’ll be on the ship. Don’t be late.” Sombra listened to the sound of Amelie’s retreating footsteps before setting the mugs on the sink and burying her head in her hands. She was shivering as she tried to process everything she was doing._

“¿Dios mío, que estoy haciendo?” _(Dear God, what am I doing?) All her actions were going to is put her in danger. She was taking and would be taking so many high risks with low rewards. So why? Why was she doing all this? Why was she trying to help Slipstream?_

_Oxton wasn’t in pain anymore. She was thankful for what happened to her. She was happy. So why?_

_Why did Olivia Colomar feel so awful?_

_“No!” Sombra whimpered as she drove the name away, and with it, she sent D.va back to the void._

_…_

_D.va didn’t know what to think as she was lobbed back into the vat of nothingness. The Sombra Overwatch described was nothing like the one she’s seen for the second time. What she just saw though didn’t seem like Sombra at all. Olivia. Olivia Colomar. D.va flipped the name over in her head a few times. That was Sombra’s name._

_It was a good name. A pretty one, even. But Sombra buried it. Not only in the world to protect her identity, but it was as if she didn’t even want to think about Olivia. It was as though Sombra hid her name and tried to stop herself from thinking it. It wasn’t until she had caved in and finally admitted what she was doing that Olivia had crept back up to Sombra and invaded her thoughts._

_The puzzle pieces clicked into place. Sombra wasn’t Olivia Colomar. Sombra was the persona that hid Olivia Colomar. Sombra was sarcastic, witty, and cocky. Olivia was kind and caring._

_D.va couldn’t help but relate. As she had fought the horrible Omnic in the Sea, D.va had acted a sort of anchor, allowing her to push onward like a player controlling their avatar in a game. D.va was Hana’s real-life avatar. An idealised and fearless version of Hana. Sombra was Olivia’s avatar. Sombra was the mask Olivia hid behind to be able to go through and cope with all the things she’s seen and done._

_But at the end of the day, D.va would disappear, and Hana Song would finally get to be herself for a while. Laughing or crying like she would when nobody was around. But why was Sombra afraid to be Olivia Colomar? Never allowing the mask to drop so she could be herself? Sombra was using short-term coping mechanisms without ever giving Olivia a chance to process happened._

_Then D.va remembered the environment she was in. She lived with Talon. She lived with people that were broken and distorted with no help in sight. In MEKA, there were other people like Hana to help her through whatever she had to face. In Overwatch, everyone also seemed to have someone to lean on for support. But Sombra probably didn’t have that in MEKA. Hana couldn’t even begin to imagine what it would be like, having to commit the deeds Sombra has with nobody to offer help. It would have been maddening for Hana._

_Maybe that’s why Sombra was so opposed to showing her true colours. Maybe that’s why she hid behind such a snarky personality. Because it was the only possible way to cope in the hell-hole she got herself stuck in._

_Widowmaker too, seemed a lot... calmer than the stories had led Hana to believe. She appeared to be aware of her situation and was extremely open about explaining her feelings, or lack thereof, to Sombra. D.va had expected a cold and merciless assassin. Instead, she saw a quiet and pensive woman who struggled to grasp a sensation of which she had been robbed. Perhaps Widowmaker, too, was a cover-up for whoever she had once been. Or maybe it was more like a mask she couldn’t remove as it had been forced upon her. Widowmaker had been forced to take on her persona. It was likely so integrated with her person that bringing out the woman she once was would be all but impossible. Maybe it was something Hana would have to bring up with Dr Ziegler once the entire fiasco with Slipstream had been resolved._

_Speaking of Lena, the condition she had been suffering from seemed utterly different in nature than Hana’s chronal disassociation. In her journal, Lena had described the dreams as violent, unpredictable, and uncontrollable; yet every dream Hana has had so far has, in one way or another, related back to the people around her. Why was this?_

_Hana couldn’t begin to guess. Maybe it was because of the Toy, and her chronal disassociation was slightly different in nature. Hana wondered. Could she try to control the dreams? Perhaps she could force herself to think about a particular topic, and she would dream about that._

_It was a troubling thought, though. By trying to dream about someone, she was, in a way, saying that she had the right to witness people’s private thoughts and experiences. It felt like she was overstepping her bounds by trying to do that._

_However, if, by some chance, she could control her dreams, maybe she could use that to find some new insight on Slipstream. This was assuming her hunch was correct, though._

_Hana figured, if she was to try it, maybe it should be with Slipstream. Perhaps she could understand how Slipstream’s mind worked a bit better, and the Dr could use that to try and help her if Overwatch ever got her back._

_Hana focused her mind, from the confines of the emptiness, towards one thought. There was no guarantee it’d work, but it’s not like she had anything to lose anyway. Agent Slipstream. Agent Slipstream. Agent Slipstream. Agent Slipstream. D.va wasn’t sure how long she kept her mind trained on Lena’s new codename. Her thoughts tried to wander, veering off in random paths about random things until Hana managed to focus repeating the name in her head like it was an incantation. Soon, she felt herself begin to sink again, and her thoughts clouded and vanished and were replaced with someone else’s_

_…_

_Slipstream blinked across the rooftops, careful to stay out of sight from the partially-busy streets of Numbani below in the early hour. The city stretched on for miles, various buildings allowing for fairly natural cover from the clouds as Slipstream laughed and giggled as she bounced from building-to-building, heading to her objective. The boss was using his wispy and ethereal smoke form to sneak around the city grounds as the relative darkness of the early morning hid him. Widowmaker was back at the ship, watching for anyone that tried to approach their landing spot. Sombra was able to casually walk through the city to her destination, given nobody knew her identity._

_Their destination was in sight. It was a rather large house atop an elevated area of the city, with rounded ledges with grass growing on them creating the uphill transition alongside the sidewalks. Shops and signs and colourful advertisements were everywhere, though most signs were still off in the early hour. There weren’t many cars, though people seemed for fond of walking to their workplaces anyway._

_Slipstream jumped from a hotel rooftop to a skyscraper with office cubicles. She darted across the windowsills, using the momentum from her blinks to vault up higher as she made her way to the rooftop while also try to be as discreet as possible. Slipstream had just charged her battery, so she still had plenty of battery life. Once she reached the roof, she grabbed onto the wall and leaned down, beaming as the city stretched out beneath her._

_“Oh, look at that! The Overwatch museum! Boy, this brings back memories!” Slipstream launched herself off the building with a chuckle, pushing off as she activated another blink to jump to another distant rooftop as the wind pelted her face and her scarf fluttered behind her. “That feels like it was such a long time ago! At least you guys managed to finally get the gauntlet!”_

_“We would have gotten it sooner if I was there,” Sombra added. “Unfortunately, Gabe decided that I was best suited playing ‘the guy behind the screen.’ You saw how well that went. The doctor’s had a_ blast _patching Amélie up after that kid clocked her. Remember that? Widowmaker was off active duty for two weeks!” Sombra’s smirk could be heard in her voice._

_“I try to forget,” the sniper snarled._

_Slipstream giggled as she launched herself onto another building. It was a tall one, with the top of it resembling a horned animals head. She hurried to the top, planting her foot on the metal as she looked at the building ahead. It was at roughly the same elevation, though much shorter, with its foundation being higher up to compensate._

_“This is the building, right?” she asked eagerly, bouncing up and down on the uneven platform._

_“You need to be more specific than ‘this building,’ Slippy,” Sombra said. “What’s it look like?”_

_“Uh… high up, matches the location you pointed out, there’s a semi-circle window looking into it? Inside there’s a bunch of high-tech looking stuff.”_

_“What colour is the window? Is it tinted yellow?”_

_“I have no clue whatsoever,” Slipstream responded bluntly. “I can’t tell colours apart. Thought the outside is next to the mechanics shop like you said.”_

_“Oh, right. Forgot about that. Well, that sounds close enough. I already turned the security systems off, so if alarms go off, then that’s not the building. The owners of this place are out of town, so it shouldn’t be too busy in there.”_

_“Good enough for me! In I go!” Slipstream launched off the building in a long blink as she covered her head and crashed through the window._

_…_

_“Slipstream! What the heck!?” Sombra shouted when she reached the building, having entered by picking the lock. Slipstream was blinking around the room feverously, looking for anything they might need. “I said you needed to get in to make sure it’s safe, not nearly break your skull!”_

_Slipstream beamed, seemingly oblivious to the single cut across her forehead from the glass. Not too much damage all things considered._

_“Don’t worry about me! I’m fine! Though I have no idea what we’re looking for. So, a box of Lúcio-oh’s is about the most exciting thing I’ve found.” She shook the box as the cereal inside bounced around before pouring some of the dry cereal in her mouth, chewing the sweet marshmallows as she leaned against a wall._

_Reaper also reached the building, appearing in a cloud of smoke before taking on his human form again. He looked around to cluttered lab._

_“It looks like we should be able to find what we need here. Sombra, find the required files on the computers. I’m going to find the OR15 spare parts. Slipstream, go watch outside.”_

_“Right away, Sir!” Slipstream nodded and blinked outside with a happy hum. The sun was only just starting to rise, with pale light finally making her neon pink harness and eyes slightly less obvious. She vaulted off the ground with a blink and sat on the ceiling with her legs crossed as she watched the area below her. It was relatively empty, so Slipstream sat and waited, enjoying the cool breeze.”_

_Slipstream didn’t perk up until she saw someone. He was walking across the street from the lab and kept glancing over to the building. Slipstream realised she left the door ajar. The person was a man, maybe in his early thirties. His glances at the door grew more and more frequent until Lena saw him finally reach for his phone. They had been found out._

_“Hey guys, someone over here’s found us out. Can someone close the door while I go deal with this?” Slipstream asked, already preparing to blink off the building._

_“Thank you, Slipstream,” Reaper said in a pleased tone lined with sinister satisfaction. Slipstream wasn’t bothered by that as she checked the surroundings. Seeing nobody else, she launched off the roof and reached the man in a split second, using her pistol to knock the phone out of his hand as she kicked him to the ground. He cried out in shock as he collapsed to the ground. Slipstream put her prosthetic on his chest, preventing him from moving. The man squirmed under the weight of her body and looked like he was about to scream. Slipstream leaned down and shoved the barrel of her other pistol in his mouth. He froze, whimpering slightly. Slipstream grinned._

_“Thanks for showing up, Buddy! That was super boring, just waiting there like that! Please don’t ruin the fun for me by attracting too much attention, though!” Slipstream giggled. Tilting her head as she heard the man stutter something that sounded like “Tracer,” despite the gun shoved in his mouth._

_“Golly gosh, you found my secret identity!” she touched the back of her palm to her forehead, leaning back while still keeping the gun in his mouth. He shivered intensely. “So, were you following one of us or did you just happen to be in the neighbourhood? I mean, I guess you can’t answer since I kinda got a gun in your mouth… Promise you won’t scream if I take it out? I mean, you’re gonna die no matter what!” she slowly moved the gun away._

_The man gasped, his body already coated with a sheen of nervous sweat. He spoke with a heavy accent, but not to the point where the meaning was incomprehensible. “You… You’re supposed to be a hero…”_

_“Correction! Tracer was supposed to be a hero, but I’m not her anymore! Name’s Slipstream, Love! Now, I hate to break it to ya, but I gotta put an end to you! We can’t have you spoiling the big reveal we’ve got coming up!”_

_The man flinched as Slipstream shoved the gun back into his mouth; he tipped his head as far away as he could, squeezing his eyes shut. He was tense as tears began to leak down his eyes. “Please… please… I have… family…” he muttered, the words distorted and difficult to understand. Slipstream blinked. She felt no sympathy for the man. It was a foreign feeling to her. Once upon a time, she could tell she would have given anything to keep this man alive. But now, she was here, pointing a gun at him, not concerned with whether he lived or died. What, at one point, was a living, breathing person to her was nothing more than an obstacle. If she wanted to, she could break his phone and let him go, and Talon could get away without a problem. On the other hand, that would spoil the big reveal for King’s Row, and that would have been way too much fun. She didn’t have any orders. She could choose for herself what to do with this obstacle. Should he live or die?  Should she go around an obstacle or through it? A few weeks ago, she would’ve said around. But now, without having to worry about the otherwise inevitable guilt and sorrow, she could take the more fun route. Straight through._

_Slipstream pulled the trigger._

_The man gasped and recoiled, bucking against her pin for several seconds as she unloaded the pulse energy into his mouth, destroying his throat and airway, severing the flow of oxygen to his lungs. He convulsed, sputtering and gasping desperately as he thrashed. His eyes bulged out of his head, and blood practically cascaded from his mouth, coating his clothes, Slipstream’s shoes, and the barrel of her pistol. Her shining eyes tinted the scene a vivid pink as the blood pooled at her feet. Slipstream laughed in raw, unbridled mirth as she watched the man struggle until he finally died after one final, pleading gaze at Slipstream. She grinned and casually made her way back to her team as she hummed a merry tune._

_…_

_A wave of sheer agony overtook Hana as she was thrust back into the darkness. She didn’t have a body, yet her memories seemed to painfully force their way into her head all at once. She longed to gasp, to cry out, to do anything as she was assaulted by thoughts about lost friends and squad mates, mistakes she’s made, the Omnics she’s had to kill, and everything and anything that hurt her. It was unbelievable and nearly impossible to put into words. For an indeterminable amount of time, the agony wormed its way through D.va’s mind. She wanted to cry, to scream, to do **something.**_

_It wasn’t until what felt like an eternity later that she began to calm down, the pain subsiding enough for her to think clearly. Dear Lord, that was horrendous. Everything had come back all at once to haunt her, even pain she had long since considered to be in the past. That was horrible. Absolutely horrible. She **could** control the dreams._

_And she decided she hated it. Whether it was a coincidence or karma, what she just experienced was by far the worse of everything so far. No, there was no way she’d do that again as long as she could help it. She was so sick of it all. Of having to go into people’s heads like she had been. Of having to worry about disappearing. About having removed the ‘Toy.’ Out of everything, an agonising thought she had refused to entertain finally made its way to the front of her mind. Taking root as an intense, inextinguishable desire._

_She wanted to go back to normal._

_…_

“Whaddya doin’ out here, Partner?” McCree said as he approached Genji, who was sitting in his meditation pose, facing the rocky cliff that overlooked the sea. The evening sky tinted the sea a beautiful orange as white seafoam clashed against the rocks with a quiet crash.

“Thinking. Nothing more,” Genji replied, his voice calm and controlled. He didn’t move as Jesse sat down next to him.

“Yeah, I’ve been doin’ a bunch of that too,” the cowboy admitted as he lit a cigar, the scent of tobacco wafting through the air.

Genji sighed. “The others brought up a good point earlier. How would we stop Lena and recapture her? She is completely unhinged and has no holds barred. She would kill us all without batting an eye. Meanwhile, you struggled to even lift your gun to her.”

“I don’t know,” McCree admitted as he blew out a puff of smoke. “But we’ll figure something out.”

“Do you think Lena would even want to return to us? She seemed to be enjoying herself in Talon.”

“Right now? Definitely not.” McCree leaned back, looking at the ocean. “To her, we’re the ones that want to ‘ruin her fun’ by taking out that damn machine that’s stealin’ her emotions. Which was just a twisted thing for them Talon psychos to do in the first place? I don’t know why she’s okay with them doin’ something’ so screwed up.”

Genji hummed. “Honestly, I believe she genuinely believes that she is being treated quite fairly.”

McCree huffed. “What makes you say that?”

“Her outfit, for one. It was peculiar. If Talon wanted to stress the fact that she was an ‘evil Tracer,’ so to speak, they could have done a black and red version of her outfit. But they didn’t. I mean, remember where they put those cuffs on her?”

“On her arms, legs, neck, and torso,” he answered without hesitation as he balled his hand into a fist. “But what’s that got to do with anything?”

“I imagine the area those were on left reasonable wounds. I would be shocked if she didn’t have some rather ugly and severe looking scars after that. But look at her new outfit. Her gauntlets had been moved to her waist with her arms being covered by those long gloves. The way she moved implied no discomfort from said wounds. Her neck was even wrapped in that soft scarf to cover her neck. It’s uncharacteristically considerate of Talon,” Genji mused.

McCree soaked all the information in, taking the cigar out of his mouth as he bounced it up and down. “Now that ya mention it, that is odd.”

“They’re making her feel welcome in Talon. They harmed her until she gave in, then they encouraged the submissive behaviour by, as she sees it, ‘lavishing her.’ What reason would she have to come back to us if she’s in a place that takes care of her and is objectively less painful for her?” Genji continued, still not having moved so much as an inch.

“Goddammit, I hate it when you’re right…” McCree admitted as he turned back to Genji. “In other words, we gotta figure something out to capture her, and force that ridiculous trinket out of her head?”

“It seems like our only option. Now, if only we knew how to find her…”

“That reminds me,” McCree remembered as he sat up straight. “The commander gave me an address. Supposedly, it can be used to track down Sombra.”

Genji finally broke out of is meditation pose as he turned his head to Jesse. “Really? That’s great. We’ll have to go find her as soon as possible!”

McCree nodded. “Though, he also scolded me for ‘not keepin’ my head on straight,’ so we’re supposed to be smart about this. As much as I would love to go in there with my gun blazin’.”

Genji sighed. “Alas… I suppose now would not be the best time, would it? Perhaps once Hana is better. Efi said she was almost done with the first form of the accelerator yesterday. We can enlist the help of some of the agents around here when they’ve figured that all out.”

McCree stood up. “I mean, I still plan on leavin’ no later than tomorrow, so let’s hope she gets fixed up soon.”

Their conversation was cut off by Lúcio, who was on his skates as he strode out to where the twosome was.

“Hey, I’m sorry to interrupt your talk, but I figured you’d want to hear this! Hana got back, and Efi has been working on stabilising her for a while now! She’s in Hana’s room!”

Genji chuckled. “If that isn’t good timing…”

McCree nodded. “Yeah, no kiddin’. I guess we’ll be payin’ Hana a visit, then.”

…

Efi frantically ran from one side of Hana’s room to another, continually checking the various equipment she had moved into the place. The charger for the chronal accelerator lay on the side of Hana’s bed as a long, winding chord stretched to an outlet on the other side of the room. From the charger, a single, long chord wound its way up D.va’s bed and to the new chronal accelerator.

The device looked similar to Tracer’s, though, in the centre, where a gentle, pink gear spun, the device was noticeably devoid of several important components. Directly next to the accelerator in a trembling heap was Hana, who constantly shifted back and forth in discomfort. Hana’s form seemed to be semi-solid as she flickered in and out of her faded form. Any sounds Hana made sounded similar to radio static than anything comprehensible.

This was how things had been for the past several hours as Efi slowly adjusted how much the accelerator was working. When Tracer had first gotten the chronal accelerator, her body had rejected it and even reacted negatively to it. To avoid that Efi was slowly stabilising Hana, though the process was no less taxing on the twosome.

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry… I know it doesn’t feel good… I’m going as fast as I can… I’m sorry…” she frantically repeated as she worked to stabilise Hana for the next several hours.

…

Hana awoke to the sound of voices. Then she promptly jolted awake and lurched out of bed, feeling the covers fall off her. She could **feel** the covers!

“Oh! You’re finally awake!” Efi exclaimed in relief. “How are you? Do you feel okay? Does anything hurt?” she asked in rapid fire. Hana blinked in surprise.

Slowly, Hana looked at her hand, staring at it in fascination. No light filtered through it. Her hand was solid! D.va was solid! She was back! “I… I feel amazing!” She whispered in awe. Tentatively she reached for the covers, her eyes widening in joy as they bunched up in her grasp.

“Nice to see ya back to the land of the livin.” Hana jumped, not having noticed that McCree was in the room, leaning against the wall. Genji was standing next to him, albeit in a far more regular pose. Lúcio was sitting in her chair, though he was beaming too.

“Welcome back, Hana!” Lúcio rejoiced, jumping out of the chair.

Hana stared at everyone around the room. It finally sank in that she was back. She was here. She was in bed, with covers underneath her.

Hana sobbed, covering her face with her hand as she laughed at the same time.

“Oh my God… I feel amazing… this is amazing! You all are amazing!” Hana grabbed the blanket on top of her and pulling them to her chest as tears began to leak down her cheeks. McCree smiled.

“’Course, we can still continue them sign language lessons if ya want. Just in case.”

Hana nodded. “Yeah… yeah, that sounds great.”

“Your fans will be thrilled to see you back, too!” Lúcio said as he sat back down in Hana’s chair. She laughed.

“Ture, they will be! Plus, I missed a ton of _StarCraft_ thanks to this whole fiasco. I kinda gotta play catch up! This is amazing! Thank you so much!”

Efi sighed ruefully, catching everyone’s attention

“I just… I wish I could do more…” she admitted. “But we didn’t have enough money for the harness battery... meaning it needs to be plugged in at all times… Like a laptop where you took the battery out.”

Hana watched as Efi bent down and grabbed the accelerator off the ground, setting it in Hana’s lap. A thick chord was clasped to the back of the harness, which was strung down to the bed and attached to the chronal charger.

Hana looked to Efi for a moment, then back to the harness. She sighed. “Don’t ruin this moment for me. Honestly, I’m just glad to be back! Recently I’ve been having some pretty… nasty… dreams…”

Hana froze. “Oh no… Oh no no no no no!”

“What’s the matter? Genji asked, standing back up.

“How long was I faded for that last time? How long have you all been in this room? What time is it?” she asked in a panic. “Lúcio! Let me see your phone!”

Lúcio blinked, surprised for a moment before he pulled his phone out of his pocket and handed it to Hana. She pressed the button as the time and date appeared on his home screen.

It was one-thirty A.M. The date was the same one she had seen on the HoloVid in Talon from her dream about Sombra.

“Numbani…” she muttered. McCree blinked.

“Numbani? What about it?”

“Talon’s going to Numbani! Today! I saw it! I saw it happen! Sombra and Widowmaker were talking about it… and… oh God…”

“Wait, did you have a dream about it?” Genji asked, a new urgency in his voice. Everyone dropped their smiles and grew serious.

“Yeah! They were going to a lab! Something about OR15 units! I saw the lab, too!”

This time, it was Efi that perked up. “A lab? What did it look like?!” her voice was fraught with newfound worry.

“I… it was… there was a window… Outside there was one of those weird animal-looking towers… the window was a semi-circle. There was a mechanics shop nearby, and the inside of the lab had a bunch of spare parts everywhere… there was also a big computer with a box of Lucio-oh’s next to it…”

Efi gasped. “That’s… that’s my lab! I… I left some of Orisa’s old parts there, and I had a computer with a ton of files on the OR15 there!” Panic set in. “My parents are gone this week, but my lab has so much important stuff there! Why are they going there? We have to stop them!”

McCree stepped up to Hana’s bed, his voice deadly serious. “Was Lena there?”

Hana’s eyes widened as the memories of the dream flooded back to her. “Oh no… Oh no… Oh God!” She clamped her hands over her face. “Slipstream does go! She goes, and she kills a civilian there!”


	28. Fights

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE READ A/Ns
> 
> Hey guys! Before we begin, I have an announcement!
> 
> In a few days, it'll be the one-year anniversary of OWLT being posted on FFN. To celebrate, I'm letting you guys pick the topic of the chapter. It can be either
> 
> A: The normal chapter I have planned
> 
> B: An interlude focusing on Talon, with them interacting in a non-combat situation
> 
> C: A flashback to a happy memory of Overwatch before it disbanded
> 
>  
> 
> Just gimme one of the letters in a review, and let me know what you think of this loooong chapter. A lot happens in it.
> 
> Enjoy!

**Chapter 28- Fights**

“How much longer until we’re there?” Efi asked as she bounced next to Hana, who was flying their jet to Numbani. Orisa, McCree, and Genji were in the back of the ship. Lúcio had stayed back at Gibraltar reluctantly, since Hana had insisted on going but somebody needed to be present at Gibraltar. McCree was pacing, though Genji and Orisa seemed to just be watching everyone.

“I’d say half an hour…” Hana muttered as she focused intently on steering the jet. Right next to her sat the chronal accelerator on the charging port, which was attached to an extension cord running to a European outlet on the wall. She couldn’t be more than a couple feet from the device, leaving her tethered to the ship, but she had insisted on coming. Hana refused to sit by when she knew the most about what Talon was going to do. If anything, she was the best pilot out of everyone on the jet. And if nothing else, Hana could guard the ship while everyone was gone.

“Why are we on a ship without the Overwatch logo, though? Agent McCree was extraordinarily specific about that.” Efi sat on the floor next to the chronal accelerator as she idly checked its components.

Hana hummed. “This mission is the textbook definition of unauthorised. Just in case something goes wrong, we’re better off not getting Overwatch blamed for things. To be safe.” She checked the map, making sure they were still on course.

“You said you saw all this stuff happen in advanced…” Efi changed the subject as she set the chronal accelerator down and began pacing next to Hana’s chair. “Did you see what would happen if you hadn’t dreamed about that event, or was the event pre-determined, even if we stepped in?”

Hana stammered. “I… I don’t know. I hope we can stop this, though.”

“What does Talon even want with my OR15 data? Most of it is detailing their coding and how I integrated Orisa’s code with the extra technology I integrated.”

“You think they want to make their own OR15s?” Hana asked as she began to bounce her leg up and down nervously.  
“Why would they? The OR15s are guard Omnics. And if they wanted to reprogram them, I don’t see why they’d choose OR15s. If they wanted to, they could have used the OR14 Null Sector tech. I remember a few people mentioning how that hacker lady had some of their stuff fused with her body. So, they have Null Sector, and by extension, probably OR14 tech on hand. Why go for the prettier, more defence-oriented model?”

D.va loosened her grip on one of the handles for the plane, stretching her fingers as she took a deep breath. “I don’t know. Maybe they just want better security for their bases.”

“But why are they robbing  **my**  lab?” Efi repeated, more out of spite than anything. Hana shrugged.

“I don’t know… I’m more worried about that man, though. I just hope we get there in time to save him…”

Efi whimpered. “I do too… he doesn’t deserve to die…. Imagine how that’d hurt Tracer, too…”

Hana blinked. “I mean, Slipstream can’t feel hurt right now, I promise…”

“I don’t mean Slipstream. I mean Tracer! Think about it, when we get her back on our side, and get that machine out of her head, don’t you think she’d feel awful for that?” Efi mused, her gaze on the starry sky in front of them.

Hana paused. “You know, that’s true. But she’s going to feel horrible no matter what she’s done before we get the sympathiser out. Just going from being in her shoes then going back to having my own mind hurt.”

Efi gasped. “Oh! I didn’t even think to ask about that! I’m so sorry!”  
D.va chuckled. “No, no, don’t worry about that. It was just some whiplash. The dreams are pretty vivid, but they do have that ‘dream’ vibe to them, like you know it wasn’t something you actually experienced, so that makes it a bit easier,” Hana half-lied. The truth was that it still sucked as she had to wait in that vat of nothingness with the barrage of sorrow after nothing but glee, but she could only imagine what it would be like for Slipstream. “But I can guarantee it’ll be worse for Lena. Her entire mind-set is all messed up. She is loyal to Reaper, but she doesn’t really give much thought as to why.”

“That seems… weird,” Efi said lamely as she circled Hana’s seat. “Though, as far as you can tell, was she being honest about the sympathiser? Does it really just remove negative emotions?”

“As far as I could tell, yeah,” Hana admitted reluctantly. “There were a few flashes of her thinking back to her torture… and they were funny to her. Not even for any logical reason. It was just funny.”

Efi hesitated. “Do you… do you know anything useful about what exactly that torture was? That way we could help her more when we save her, in case she doesn’t want to talk…”

“It’s blurry… like she can remember it all just fine but just… hasn’t brought the memory to the surface often. I only know about snippets, and I don’t have any of the context to them.” Hana stared straight ahead, partly hoping Efi would stop asking her questions.

“Oh… I gotcha… sorry to pry…” There was an awkward silence between the two. Efi continued pacing, clearly nervous.

Hana’s gaze trailed to the chronal accelerator she was tethered to. It didn’t take more than a couple feet’s distance for her to begin feeling the effect of her condition again, as she had discovered fairly quickly. The chronal accelerator radiated such an odd aura, like a blanket of security hidden inside a world of cold chaos. She could feel the tug of the device, making her want to be as close to it as humanly possible.

Efi noticed D.va staring at the harness. “Oh! Are you feeling alright? Is the accelerator working?”

“Oh, it’s working great. Don’t worry about that,” Hana comforted with a smile, focusing her attention back on the controls. “I’m just wondering… can you feel it? The harness, I mean?”

Efi blinked. “I can touch it, if that’s what you mean. Other than that, no. Though I do start feeling sick to my stomach if I stick my hand where that pink gear is,” she mused.

Curious, Hana stuck her hand where Efi described. Her hand felt warm, like it was protected on all sides as the gentle pink light seemed to dance around her fingertips. “That’s so strange… I feel the harness’ energy. It’s like a beacon trying to guide me to it. I’d wager if you hid it, I’d be able to find it.”

“So, you can sense the chronal energy? Do you think you could sense the energy from Slipstream’s harness?” Efi asked with renewed eagerness.

“I mean, now that I know what it feels like… possibly? I couldn’t answer that definitively.”

“Well, if you do feel her, let us know!” Efi ordered with new enthusiasm.

D.va laughed. “Yeah okay, I will, don’t worry about that. I’m not going to hide it from you guys if I know where she is!”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t make a battery…” Efi finally said after a few minutes of silence.

“Don’t be,” Hana stated firmly. “You’ve done so much already. You need to stop feeling bad for things that you didn’t even do wrong.”

“But it’s just a battery! You wouldn’t even think it’d be that hard!”

Hana raised an eyebrow. “How does the battery work anyway? Like, what does the power do?” Hana blinked. “Okay that’s a really hard question to word.” She was hoping to get the child to stop blaming herself by distracting her a bit.

Efi chewed on her fingernail for a moment. “No, I think I understand the question. You mean how does the device actually stabilize you?”

Hana nodded. “Yeah, kinda. Try to dumb it down to my level though,” she said with a smirk.

Efi giggled and nodded. “Well, it’s kinda weird to explain, but according to the documents from Winston that I read, your body has become infused with a sort of energy that everyone’s dubbed chronal energy. And picture the energy like a magnet. Like, there’s a negative chronal energy and a positive chronal energy. The kind in your body that destabilised you is… we’ll say it’s the negative kind. Meanwhile, the positive energy is what pulls you away. It’s the opposite of yours, and since it’s like a magnet, they attract.”

“So, let me get this straight.” Hana reiterated Efi’s points. “The Toy or that jet crash released negative chronal energy, and that’s like, a part of Lena or my body now. But the natural chronal energy of the world is positive, and because of that, it tries to attract the negative energy, and by extension, me, away.”

Efi nodded. “Both the Toy and Slipstream jet’s teleportation matrix were discharging the negative energy to intentionally harness that power. The positive energy that is basically a part of time itself is what they took and converted to negative to use. But because you were basically submerged in that power, now the positive energy is constantly trying to pull you away. That’s why you were always not totally present. A part of you was always being pulled away towards the opposite of your energy.”

“But wait,” Hana paused for a moment, gathering her thoughts. “If I was constantly being pulled towards positive energy, why did I disappear only some of the time? Wouldn’t I either be always semi-present or completely destabilised?”

“Chronal energy is naturally volatile,” Efi said without missing a beat. “It ebbs and flows in how powerful it is. Like a river. Sometimes it’s super strong, other times it’s manageable. Of course, this doesn’t impact day-to-day life for anyone that isn’t sensitive to such energy, but when there’s more of the positive energy, it’s like a more powerful magnet that’s trying to reach you.”

Hana’s gaze trailed to the device keeping her grounded. “Negative energy is what I’m covered in, positive energy is pulling me away… but where does the harness come in?”

Efi’s eyes lit up. “Oh, it’s a super clever device! Essentially, it pulls in the raw, unconverted positive energy in massive, compact amounts! So much so that it overrides the pull of Time. Like if I had two magnets, and one was a huge electromagnet and another was from a dollar store. If there was a piece of metal they were trying to attract, the metal would go to the giant magnet.”

“So basically, the harness is more powerful than the pull of time?” Hana asked, suddenly much warier of the device.

“I wouldn’t say it’s more powerful. More like it’s more concentrated,” Efi had gone back to pacing around the chair as her voice sped up. “All the energy of the universe isn’t in a position where it can reach you, as it were. There’s way more of it, but it’s thinly spread. Meanwhile the harness is an extremely concentrated amount of intense energy. It cancels out the magnet of the universe by being closer and immediately stronger. And because the positive energy is right by you, your body stays intact and you don’t go anywhen.”

Hana’s eyebrows shot up. “Woah. You mean I’m being attracted to that thing like a magnet?”

“Only the chronal energy in you. Like how blood would be attracted to a strong magnet because of its teeny bit of iron. Not enough to be hugely noticeable most of the time. Which is why you’re not sticking to the harness like glue.” Efi giggled at the thought. “That would look funny though!”

“Yeah, for everyone except me,” Hana joked. “But that’s a weird thought. I just assumed that the harness cancelled out the chronal disassociation, not just attracted me or whatever.”

“Yeah, the harness needs to be working around the clock with a ton of energy to keep you here, which is part of the issue with finding a battery.” Efi seemed to deflate as she settled down on the floor, leaning against the wall. “The harness uses normal power to generate chronal power, but there’s no way to store it without a battery. The chronal energy is so finicky to store, though. Not to mention there needs to be a ton of it to last several hours.”

“Why can’t you use a normal battery that gives energy to the harness to convert then?” Hana asked, focusing her gaze back out on the sky.

“That’s not possible. Remember, normal electronics are unreliable around chronal energy. Only incredibly specific things can withstand constant surges of it. A normal battery would probably explode.”

“Okay then yeah no thanks,” Hana chuckled. “I’d like to not be exploded.”

Efi sighed. “So that means we need an ultra-strong battery made for chronal energy if we want the harness to be the least bit safe, but they’re so expensive… I don’t know how we’ll get one… but I’ll figure something out! I promise!” She jumped up and clapped her fist to her palm. “I can get some more grant money! Or I can sell my old inventions! I’ll get a job at a university! Something!”

Hana put her hand up and cut off the child. “Okay, you need to calm down,” she stated plainly. Efi paused and stared at D.va in confusion. “You’ve been working yourself way too hard lately. Especially for someone so young. You got me here, you got me stable, and as much as I would love to have a full-functioning harness, I’m not putting that above your well-being.”

“But you need a harness! I need to get you one!”

Hana shook her head. “You need to stop blaming yourself got not being able to get something so expensive. It’s not your fault in the slightest, and to think it is… that’s just silly.”

“But... I’m supposed to help you, and I can’t do that…” Efi squeezed her eyes shut and rubbed her eyes.

“You’ve helped a ton.” Hana took one hand off the jet controls and put her hand around Efi’s shoulder, pulling her closer. “You’ve helped way more than any kid, and even most adults your age would ever be able to. If anything, this is my fault for getting myself into this mess in the first place.”

“No, it’s not! Talon was…” Hana interrupted the child.

“Yeah, I know what Talon was doing. But it was still my impulsive decision.”

“I still say it wasn’t your fault,” Efi stomped her foot on the ground and crossed her arms to prove her point. Hana chuckled.

“Then how about we just both agree that me getting chronal disassociation wasn’t my fault, and you not being able to get a battery isn’t yours?”

“But…”

“Nope. No buts,” Hana said. “Not your fault, not mine. Deal?”

Efi sniffed but also seemed to laugh at the same time. “Okay, okay, deal!”

The two remained comfortably silent for several seconds before Efi hummed.

“Do you regret taking the Toy off?” she asked nervously.

Hana paused, trying to think about how she should answer the question. “I try not to,” she finally admitted.

“Meaning that you do sometimes?” Efi pressed, her voice quiet.

Hana sighed. “I took it off in hopes of being able to convince Tracer that she didn’t need to stay with Talon. But that didn’t work. In the end, it was really for nothing.”

“That sounds horrible…” Efi admitted.

“It’s not all bad though.” Hana smiled. Efi’s eyebrows shot up as she stuttered in surprise.

“I’ve gotten to learn more about people, you know. About Slipstream, McCree, Genji, even Sombra. I can understand them better.”

“Sombra? The hacker?”

Hana nodded. “That’s the one. I can’t say for certain yet what her motives are or what she’s going to do, but she’s really not as bad as everyone thinks.”

“How so?”

“She was actually pretty nice to Lena back when Reaper was… uh… hurting her, for one.” Efi grimaced as she remembered the horrible video Reaper sent. “Even though she wasn’t supposed to, she still sneaked her a drink. Though, Lena said the wrong things and got under her skin. She seemed genuinely distressed…”

“Maybe we can reason with her then!” Efi offered with newfound hope. “Maybe we can get her to help us!”

“You know, maybe. But we can’t just walk up and talk to her. That would never work. But if she was honest in what I saw, we may have another ally. Just… let’s wait and see how it plays out for a bit though.”

Efi nodded eagerly. “Yeah! I seriously hope she does help us!”

“And if she does, you’d better believe my first words to you will be ‘I told you so.’ Just stating it now.” It was true, now that Hana thought about it. While some experiences with the harness were less pleasant than others, there were definitely advantages to her dreams. That begged the question. Should she try to exploit the dreams? Maybe they could gain an advantage on Talon’s plan. Hana felt strangely uneasy at the thought. The thing about her dreams was that she was entering people’s minds. That was such a private place, and Hana was just barging in. It was fine when she had no control over it, but intentionally reading people’s thoughts seemed like it’d be going a step to far. Hana decided to shelf the thought.

“Think we can get Agent McCree and Genji to place bets against us on whether or not Sombra helps us?”

Hana smirked. “Oh, let’s totally do it.”

…

 “No way in Hell can we take the kid with us!” McCree shouted as Hana prepared to land the jet just outside Numbani, where Efi’s lab would be a couple miles away.

“We have little choice,” Genji pressed. “She knows where the lab is, and she could recognize any stolen technology,” Genji argued, fitting his visor into place as he inserted some shurikens into the slots on his arm.

“Are a couple minor conveniences worth putting her life in danger like that, though?” McCree shot back, already standing at the door with Peacekeeper hidden from sight. “We’re talking about asking her to guide us to where a group of terrorists are ransacking a building for weapons. That is NOT happening!”

Efi crossed her arms as she sat on the table. “Do I get any say in this? You guys don’t need to worry about me! I’ll go with Orisa until we’re a half a kilometre away and let you guys take over. When you manage to stop them, I’ll come in and see what they messed with.”

McCree paused. “How long is a kilometre?”

“About half of a mile. It’s really not that hard to remember,” Genji said. McCree huffed.

“So, about a quarter mile off… that’s still way too close!”

“Not to break up the girl scout’s meeting,” Hana interjected from the cockpit. “But we’re about to land, so decide fast.”

“I’ll come, don’t worry about me!” Efi declared, hopping up onto Orisa’s back. “I’ll be fine!”

“Efi, I have some concerns with this arrangement.” The Omnic rotated her head as far as she could to look at the child. “Your safety is my top priority, and this will jeopardise it greatly.”

“Well, the way I see it,” Efi began with the sly smile only a child could muster. “Either you let me come, or I follow anyway but without your protection, so no matter which way you slice it, if you don’t let me come I’ll be in even more danger!”

Orisa seemed to pause. “I insist that you wait here. I would not be fulfilling my duties as a guardian if I allowed you to join us.”

“Nope!” Efi declared proudly, not budging from Orisa’s back. “I’m coming, and that’s final!”

“I am not okay with this in the slightest,” McCree added as he leaned against the wall. “I don’t want to have to be responsible for you getting killed.”

“I’m not going to get killed!” Efi promised. “Look, I know it’s dangerous. Really, I do! But this is my research we’re talking about! I’ve poured hundreds of hours into that stuff! I can’t just stand aside and let you guys go there without me!”

McCree stuttered. “But you’ve got absolutely no means of protectin’ yourself! And don’t just say ‘gimme a gun’ because those things are not something to be handed out freely to someone that’s never shot before.”

Efi frowned. “You’re acting like I’ve never been in a dangerous situation before. But I was at the airport Doomfist attacked. I  _saw_  him attack those OR15s! He even hurt some Omnics and people that got in his way! I know how dangerous the people from Talon can be! I saw the video Reaper sent out! I’m not charging into this blindly and optimistically, but I’m our best bet of getting their quickly!”

Everybody paused, blinking in surprise.

“You saw Doomfist?” Genji asked, he clenched his fists as he said the name. Hana couldn’t help but remember the dream where the man had ripped out Tracer’s chronal accelerator.

“Yeah? Why?” Efi shook her head. “That’s not important now, though! I’m still coming!”

“Hey, uh, sorry to interrupt again,” Hana began. “But I don’t remember Doomfist being on this mission, first up.”

“D.va!” McCree said, drawing the gamer’s attention. “Can’t ya force the kid to stay on the ship?”

Hana shook her head. “Uh, no, I can’t. If she manages to get out of this ship, which I’m sure she can do, I can’t follow her.” She nodded to her chronal accelerator, still plugged into the charger via a long cable. “I’m tethered to the ship, remember? If you want my two cents though, I say don’t judge her from age. I’m probably bias though.” Hana turned to focus on landing the ship in an empty clearing on the outskirts of the city.

“…Shit. There’s no way I’m winning this argument, is there?” McCree finally conceded. “Fine. The kid will come. But as soon as we get remotely close to her lab, she is not getting an inch closer until it’s safe.”

Orisa nodded. “Does that satisfy you, Efi?”

The girl nodded cheerily from Orisa’s back. “Yep!”

Hana settled the ship on the grass below as the hum of the engines died down. “I’m going to have to keep this bird in the air for the record, since this jet’s landing is  _super_  unauthorised and it might attract attention. Just let me know where pickup is. I’ll be on comm.”

Everybody nodded as D.va opened up the door to the ship. Genji darted out of the ship first with McCree following close behind.

“Efi, hold on tight please,” Orisa warned. Efi wrapped her arms around the Omnic’s torso as the centaur bot galloped off after the other agents. Once they were out of sight, Hana sighed, desperately wishing she could get in her mech and follow. But it was okay. She was here. She was present. That was all she could ask, even if she was stuck on a leash. She was here.

…

McCree and Genji methodically wove their way through the city as the sky slowly but steadily began to go from a dark blue to a pale grey. Genji had turned the lights on his body off, and McCree had left his noisy spurs on the ship. Without any flashy paraphernalia, the two remained completely unnoticed by all civilians. They ducked in and out of alleys, trailing after Efi as she walked alongside Orisa on the familiar streets of her hometown. She chattered idly into the mic as they walked.

“Over there is a great place to get paints, they have only the best of the best! And over there is my favourite place to commission the parts I need specially made!” she pointed to several buildings as they walked. “And over there serves the best ice cream in the world!”

Genji chuckled in amusement as the child gushed about carious spots in Numbani while McCree just tolerated it, at least appreciative the kid was venting her nervousness in a way that didn’t involve outright panicking.

“Kid, how much longer until we reach your street?”

“Not far,” Efi answered quickly. “But we still got a couple minutes ahead of us, don’t worry!”

The group travelled in silence for several more minutes until Orisa spoke up.

“Efi, this is approximately one-half of a kilometre away from the lab.”

“Aww, party pooper. I was hoping to get to go at least a little bit further!”

“Alright Kid, that’s enough for you then. Where do we go from here?” McCree asked over the mic.

“It should be just down this road and across the street,” Efi responded in a bored tone. “It’s next to a mechanics shop. You can’t miss it.”

Then Efi smelled it. She wrinkled her nose. “Do… do you guys smell that?” It smells like… like blood…

The two agents reacted immediately as they revealed themselves from alleys. Efi whipped her head around until her eyes settled on a nearby bush. There was a definite red puddle below it. “Oh my God…” she muttered, aghast. Genji darted over to the bush. He moved some of the branches out of his way, though Efi still couldn’t see past him. He put her hand over where his mouth would be on his helmet.

Efi moved to walk over to the ninja, only for Orisa to firmly grab the child, showing no signs of letting her down. Efi squirmed in her grasp while McCree ran over to where Genji was. “Orisa, lemme down! I need to see!”

Genji backed away from the brush. “That is not anything you need to see,” he said definitively. “And that is not anything you will see.”

“Why? Is it a person? Are they dead?” she asked with growing panic. McCree nodded sombrely.

“Yeah. It is. Lena’s pulse pistol, too. I’d recognise it anywhere.

Efi gasped. “You mean she actually killed someone?” she asked in awed horror. “But why?”

“She had to. At least in her eyes,” Genji answered in a painfully neutral tone.

“We have to call the cops!” the child said in a rush. McCree cut her off.

“No, that’s the last thing we want. Kid, Genji is on an unauthorised Overwatch mission, and I’m a criminal. Getting the authorities involved it a horrible idea. We’ll have to wait until someone else discovers the body.”

“But… we have to tell someone…”

“This is our best bet. Right now, Lena went to the trouble of hiding the body, meaning she isn’t advertising her joining Talon yet. We still have time before she goes public. If people find out about this, then it’ll be on worldwide news, no doubt.

Efi whimpered and hugged Orisa as best she could in her current position. “No… no… somebody is dead… somebody is dead…” Sobs began to wrack the child’s chest.

“Orisa, get the kid out of here,” McCree ordered. “Take her someplace safe then meet us back here.”

The Omnic nodded. “Of course.” Before she could go anywhere, Efi spoke up, her voice soft and her face full of tears as she shook.

“No, no. I’m fine. I’ll go myself. You guys need to get to my lab. You might still have time…”

“Efi, are you certain you are in any state to go anywhere on your own?”

The girl nodded. “Yeah… the mission comes first…” Orisa slowly let the child down as McCree and Genji exchanged uneasy glances. Hana could do nothing more but sigh.

Mission over man. Why had Efi already picked up on that? She was only twelve.

…

“Um… I don’t know if this is important, but we kinda have company,” Sombra commed in. Slipstream whooped in excitement and jumped up from her spot on the roof. “Finally! Been looking for a proper fight! Who’re we up against?”

Sombra went quiet for a moment. “Sounds like the cowboy, cyborg, and OR15.”

“Ooh! This’ll be a good time then!” Slipstream stretched as she prepared to jump off the roof of the building.

“Wait,” Reaper ordered. Instantly, Slipstream froze, neutralising her expression as she awaited orders. “We found all that we needed. Widowmaker is on her way with the jet. We will meet us here. Slipstream, your job is to keep the cargo safe.”

“Aye aye, Sir!” Slipstream crouched back down on the roof and waited. It wasn’t more than a couple minutes before she saw her old friends. They thought they were being subtle, sneaking around in an alley, but to that, Slipstream says nope!

She bounded to the ground to where her old co-workers seemed unsurprised that she showed up in front of them. Pale sunlight was filtering in through the gap between two mundane shops, though none of it compared to the vivid shine of her harness and eyes as they returned her eager smirk with stony glares.

“Howdy there, Cowboy!” Lena greeted with a wave as she bounced from leg to leg, staring down the two boys. She turned to Genji. “How do you say ‘hi’ in Japanese?”

“Lena, please don’t make us fight you,” Genji pleaded, though he was already in a defensive stance, prepared at any moment for her to lash out.

“You do realise that asking me not to do something just makes me not wanna do it more, right? That’s like, basic-human-nature-101.” Slipstream leaned against the wall of the building nonchalantly, pulling on of her pistols from her holster. It was still stained with the splatter blood of the man from earlier. She frowned and rubbed at the stain with her fingerless glove, only for some of it to smear onto her hand. She grunted and gave up with a shrug as she pulled out her other pistol and pointed one at each of the agents.

Genji reacted first as he slid a shuriken out of his arm and launched it at Lena’s leg. She grinned and blinked against the wall, using the surface to jump behind him. She tapped his back. “Tag!” McCree drew Peacekeeper and fired at her shoulder this time. She yelped and jumped out of the way, blinking behind the cyborg, using him as makeshift cover from McCree. She quickly unloaded her gun into Genji’s shoulder, severely damaging the metal as he whipped around with his knife in hand. Lena ducked away as the blade grazed her clothes.

“Oi! This outfit isn’t cheap, ya know?” she joked, laughing as she jumped back against the wall, pushing off to slide under Genji. She used her hands to push herself off the ground while delivering a swift kick to Jesse’s chin. She spun around with a giggle as she used her gun as a shield from the Sparrow’s knife. In that time, a loud bang went off and Slipstream toppled to the ground with her prosthetic leaking oil.

“Ooh! Nice shot!” she complimented. There was a loud pop, and Slipstream moved backward in time, stopping at the moment where her gun was suspended over her head. She completed the movement by shooting at Jesse while he instinctively blocked the bullets with his prosthetic, firing Peacekeeper with his other hand, his aim true as the bullet dug into Lena’s prosthetic. She recalled again, but Genji was ready as he threw a shuriken into her arm, cutting away the fabric and digging into her scarred forearm.

“Slipstream! You’re outmatched! Back out of there!” Sombra called over the microphone.

“Roger that!” she responded as she pulled the Shuriken out of her arm, ignoring the warm blood gushing from her wound and staining her clothes.

“Halt!” called another voice from behind as Tracer was about to blink away. She turned around, it was the refurbished OR15, holding her hand out like a cross-guard. “I cannot allow you to leave this area!”

“Ooh! Shiny!” Slipstream complimented, as she blinked again to avoid another shot from Jesse. “Sadly, though, that ain’t gonna fly with me! See ya!” she crouched low to the ground, activating a blink as she launched herself to the wall of the building, using it as a foothold to jump to the other in a makeshift wall-jump while her harness left a neon pink trail behind her. She was almost to the roof of the building when she felt an increased tugging that killed her momentum and yanked her to the ground. She was vaguely aware of a giant orb that had pulled her back before she hit the ground, tucking and rolling to avoid hurting herself.

McCree didn’t miss a beat, firing again as he managed to hit her prosthetic, forcing Lena to recall back down to the ground where Genji grabbed her by the wrist and prepared to hit her in the head to knock her out.

“Aww, why do you need to spoil my fun?” Slipstream pouted, though she was leaning away from Genji in some sort of hope that that would stop him from knocking her out cold. “Uh, I could use a hand here!” She called into the mic, knowing there was no way she could win on her own. Black smoke began to coil around people’s legs. Reaper materialised just as Genji’s fist was about to make contact with Slipstream’s head, grabbing the cyborg’s arm and separating him and Lena.

“Slipstream, take care of the OR15,” he ordered. “Sombra, deal with the cyborg. The cowboy is mine.”

Genji and McCree froze, Genji pulled his hand away and rolled to sweep Reyes’ legs out from under him, only for him to burst into smoke one second and begin surrounding Jesse. The cowboy backed away, firing into the concrete, apparently not damaging Reaper in the slightest.

Slipstream hummed. “Say! Sombra! Do you know where that little girl is?” she asked, drawing the Omnic’s attention immediately.

“I’m not certain, but they’re prepping to pick her up in the jet.”

Slipstream grinned. “Really? Alright! Thanks! Imma go over there, then!” She bluffed, jumping up and blinking past the OR15.

“Halt! You will not go anywhere near Efi!”

“Catch me if you can, then!” She waved, blinking off as Orisa ran after Slipstream in hot pursuit. Genji moved to chase after them, only to be stopped by a voice in his head.

“Hello, Sparrow. You, me, we need to talk.” Genji froze, tearing off his visor as he shook his head.

“You! Sombra! How did you get into my systems! Get out! Get out now!” He responded mentally, clutching his head.

Sombra stuttered. “Okay, okay, but listen up. I’m going to change the colour of your visor to purple, then you’re going to come across the street, inside the lab. Pretend like I’m controlling you!”

“Why would I do that?” Genji spat, already preparing to help McCree.

“Just do it! I need to give you something important, and I can help you with Slipstream! Efi isn’t really where Slipstream is running! She was only bluffing!”

Genji froze momentarily, considering his options. “If this is a trap, I will kill you.”

“You’ll have to get in line,” Sombra snarled. “Now hurry up!”

The cyborg finally conceded, clicking his visor into place. A moment later, it took on a purple hue. He ran across the road, making sure his movements were clean and precise with no variation in his steps.

…

Orisa chased furiously after the pink-clad agent, freezing to a halt only when Slipstream did the same, spinning around to face her in a deserted part of town behind some shadier shops.

“Man! I can’t believe you actually bought that!” Slipstream giggled as Orisa’s slit eyes turned into giant O’s. “Of course, I don’t know where the kiddo is! But now that you’re here…” Lena jumped to the side, flanking Orisa as she unloaded a clip of bullets into the centaur’s side. The Omnic made unintelligible whirring noises as some sort of distress call. She turned around to kick Slipstream, only for the agent to duck and slide under Orisa’s stomach, firing into the meticulously painted metal before pulling herself out and upright.

Orisa aimed at Slipstream as bullets shot from the gun on her arm, which she expertly maneuvered around. Thinking fast, Orisa released a Graviton charge, which seemed to reach out and latch onto Slipstreams chest. Orisa fired at the charge and activated it, slingshotting the Talon agent into the barrage of bullets and the wall of the shop behind them. She grunted as her harness let out a small spray of sparks while she left a sizable dent in the wall. Orisa moved in to pin Slipstream, so Slipstream blinked over her, appearing behind the Omnic. But Orisa was ready, launching a graviton charge behind her, which threw Lena back towards the wall, loosening some of the bricks as she clasped her hands over her head to prevent any major injuries. Orisa grabbed onto Slipstream’s harness, about to rip it off, but Lena smirked and interrupted the movement by recalling as Time forced her out of the vice grip and brought her behind Orisa. She threw herself onto the centaur’s back grabbing on of Orisa’s horns and twisting it to the side as she jumped off the opposite side, throwing the Omnic off balance. Orisa lashed out with the side of her gun, twisting to hit Slipstream in the chest with it as she dodged out of the way. She took advantage of the opening, giggling as she darted in front of Orisa, her pink eyes full of childlike mirth as she fired at the Omnic’s face, twisting and distorting the metal, sealing one of Orisa’s eyes shut and damaging the other. She reared back, kicking her forelegs as she slammed down to the ground, cracking the pavement beneath her as Slipstream kicked off the wall and moved to the back of the Omnic, holding her hands behind her back as she admired her handiwork.

“Slipstream, return to the lab for pickup,” Slipstream heard Widowmaker call through the communicator.

“Aww, just when I was about to start having fun!”

…

Genji drew a shuriken as he entered the lab. It had been quite clearly ransacked, with mechanical parts strewn about the room with drawers lying open and dumped out. Sombra was waited in there for him as she twirled her gun in her hand. She leaned against a wall that was out of sight of any of the windows or doorway.

“You had best make this fast,” Genji began, in an offensive stance. “And if you try anything, I will kill you before you can so much as blink.”

Sombra rolled her eyes, unimpressed. She tossed something onto the floor in front of him. It was a tiny device that had been crushed in her palm. It looked like a communicator.

“I learned the hard way that destroying a communicator is  _way_  more convincing for my shady dealings. Shady by Talon’s standards, at least. Does that still make them shady, or is that like a double negative?” Sombra mused casually.

“You’re going behind Talon’s back?” Genji asked sceptically.

“Okay, contrary to popular belief, I’m not a murderous psychopath that thirsts for the pain of others.”

“Says the woman who kidnapped Tracer for torture,” he spat, clenching his fist.

Sombra rubbed her temples. “That is not something I’m exactly proud of right now. So, before you can say anything or yell at me for the stupid things I’ve done, just take this.” She tossed something else to the cyborg. He caught it deftly, flipping it over in his hand. It easily fit in his palm, and had several open ports, though the device had no immediately obvious function.

“Now before you ask, no I didn’t bug that thing. You can take it apart and put it back together and you won’t find anything,” Sombra began as Genji looked at the object, perplexed. “Give it to the kid and I guarantee she’ll know what to do with it. Please don’t break it though, it costs a ton, and I had to pretend that was going towards translocator upgrades.”

“And why should I believe this device isn’t some sort of trap?” Genji asked, holding it warily.

The hacker sighed. “Because I broke my communicator, haven’t even tried to take control of your systems aside from the light changing thing, and I am about to tell you where we plan to go next.” Genji waited for her to continue. “King’s Row, in five days. More specifically, the Underworld power plant.”

“Why?” the ninja asked quickly. “What do you need from King’s Row? Why did you need OR15 tech from here?”

Sombra shook her head. “I can’t reveal  _all_  of Talon’s secrets, as much as I actually would love to do so. If you want me to sneak info to you, it can’t be all of it. There’s no way you can suddenly know everything we’re doing and NOT have the higher-ups not get suspicious of me. Come on, this is back-end dealing 101. Also, there’s another rally being held there by the Omnics and humans to celebrate Mondatta’s life and whatnot. I’d really appreciate it if you could pretend like that was your main reason for being there.”

“That’s when you plan on flaunting around Slipstream, isn’t it?” his voice was quiet and cold.

“Flaunting makes us sound so evil,” Sombra whined, though her voice was tinged with worry. “To answer your question though, that’s one of our objectives. How you react to that info is your business.”

Genji tilted his head. “And why is it you have so suddenly decided to offer us your help?”

“That is a great mystery for the ages,” Sombra said hastily, making it obvious she had no intentions of answering.

“If you think whatever game you’re playing at here will make me overlook what you did to Tracer, you are sorely mistaken.”

She held up her hands. “I never said I thought it would. I never even said I wanted it to, so just calm down. Now, I have a weird request.”

Genji scoffed. “Don’t expect much from me.”

“Can you punch m-?”

Sombra yelped as Genji dashed forward, slamming his fist into her shoulder. She flew backward, tumbling into a pile of electronics in a dazed heap. She groaned as she lay in an uncomfortable position within the pile of miscellaneous devices. “You’re not even going to ask why?” she moaned indignantly. She tentatively tapped her shoulder, only to recoil in pain, grimacing. “God damn, I think you broke something.”

“It’s only a flesh wound,” Genji promised, waving her off. “And it’s not like you don’t deserve that.”

“Okay, fair point…”

There was the distinct hum of a jet outside.

…

“Howdy, Reyes. Long time, no see.” McCree greeted coldly.

Reaper chuckled. “Indeed, it has been. How have you been?” he asked in mock innocence.

“Everything was fine and dandy until you decided to butt back in.”

“What ever do you mean?” the ghost asked. McCree knew. He knew he was being baited. But he didn’t care.

“Oh, you know, kidnapping Lena and  _torturing_  her,” he spat, his accent concealed by fury.

“You word it so harshly,” Reaper tsked. “I was merely convincing Oxton that Talon could offer her more happiness than any makeshift solution Overwatch scrapped together.”

“Bullshit!” McCree yelled, drawing Peacekeeper in a flash. “You gave her no choice! Either she had to suffer or do what you said! Don’t pretend like she had a choice in the matter!”

“And yet, you can’t argue with the result,” Reaper taunted, with his only goal in mind being to get Jesse angry. “She is happier with Talon than she ever was with you lot.”

“That’s a load of bull and you know it!”

“Although, I must admit there was a certain satisfaction in slowly watching her break. She held out for quite a while.”

“Be quiet!” McCree hissed, firing Peacekeeper at Reaper’s mask. The man burst into smoke around the bullet, reforming once the danger was past.

“Her body had to be broken first. The electrocution did an alright job of that on its own, though she did a wonderful job at breaking herself. She put up a fight at every possible opportunity, allowing herself further punishment.”

The cowboy fired again, emptying his revolver of bullets as Reaper easily wove around the shots. McCree hurried to reload as Reaper continued to muse.

“Her spirit came not long after I shattered her knee. Widowmaker told me about when the pet decided to seek comfort from her, of all people. Isn’t that ironic?”

“She isn’t your pet you bastard!” More shots rang out, none of the bullets hitting home.

“I’m willing to bet she was telling herself over and over again that you’d be there for her. That you’d manage to save her. But her heroes didn’t come in time, did they? What a let-down that must have been for her. Her closest team members- abandoning her.”

McCree roared. “That wasn’t it and you know it! Shut your damn mouth!” He lunged at his former mentor, yet his hands closed around thin air as the man burst into smoke, circling Jesse. Reaper reformed behind him. McCree acted on instinct and got as close to the ground as possible, attempting to sweep Reaper’s legs out from under him. He caught the man semi-off guard as he momentarily lost balance, though that didn’t stop his shotgun from discharging as he blasted McCree in the side; his armour mostly protected him, though a couple bullets managed to pierce through as McCree grunted and rolled out of the way as he shot again, this time dodging the volley of projectiles. Jesse jumped to his feet and fanned the hammer of his revolver. Out of the six bullets, Reaper managed to avoid five as one embedded itself in his shoulder. He recoiled and grunted in annoyance.

The hum of a jet became more and more prominent as Reaper chuckled darkly. “Well, that sounds like it’s my time to go. Do have yourself a wonderful day, Cowboy,” he said in mock politeness.

“You ain’t leavin’ just yet!” McCree fired again, but it was in vain as Reaper burst into his wispy form and trailed out of the alley, to the clearing where a Talon jet was landing. McCree would have run after Reaper if it weren’t for warning shot of a sniper rifle that forced him to take cover. It took a blur of neon pink to make him disregard the sniper entirely. As his peripheral vision caught Slipstream darting onto the ship, McCree dove out of his cover and attempted to aim Peacekeeper as a shot rang out. Instead of his head getting blown off, McCree was vaguely aware of green lights that moved between him and the jet.

“Honestly, you should at least  _try_  to remember all your training,” Genji poked as he lowered the blade he had used to deflect the Widowmaker’s bullet.

“Sorry, I was kinda focused on something,” he retorted. He swore under his breath as Talon’s jet took off, leaving them on the ground.

McCree tapped his communicator and spoke, “D.va, any chance you can get us? We gotta go after ‘em!”

“On it!” Hana replied. “I already got Efi and Orisa! I’m doing a fly-by!”

Sure enough, a minute later, Hana arrived with the door to the jet open as Genji and McCree all but jumped inside.

“And take-off!” She shouted to them, already accelerating before the door was completely sealed shut as the wind tried to knock the two newcomers out of the jet.

Efi gasped. “Agent McCree! You’re bleeding!”

McCree shook his head. “Nothing major, let’s go!” The engines roared as Hana sped after the Talon jet, which had already had a couple minute’s head-start by the time they were full-throttle.

“We are breaking about fifteen different air-travel laws, just FYI!” Hana half-yelled to the group as they chased the Talon jet, slowly gaining on it. “They’re going to have to confront us soon, or else we’d be able to tail them to their base!”

Much to McCree’s annoyance, Orisa used the precious couple of minutes to wrap his side in bandages. Genji had secured the item given to him my Sombra in one of the lockers secured to the jet. “Be ready, they’re slowing down to engage!” Hana called. Orisa shot a small item onto the ground in front of the cockpit where Hana and Efi were as a barrier shot up and protected them from future incoming fire.

“Here we go…” Genji muttered as the black jet ahead began to slow noticeably. The land beneath them turned into ocean.

The door to the Talon plane began to open as the group caught up.

“Watch out!” Orisa held her hand out, right in front of Jesse’s face as a faint bang was heard and a bullet pierced a small hole in the jet. The projectile buried itself into Orisa’s hand, but she seemed unbothered as Hana opened the door to the jet. Wind began to tug at everyone as McCree held onto a handle by the door, whereas Genji and Orisa were more able to maintain footing with their augmentations.  The cowboy quickly assessed what they could see of the Talon ship. Widowmaker was in the back, looking for an opportunity to shoot, while Slipstream was using a different pistol from her normal guns in the gauntlets on her waist, likely taken just for this situation. McCree fired at Widowmaker first, though the assassin managed to hit the floor of the deck as she predicted his shot.

Genji once more unsheathed his blade and used it to deflect a shot from the assassin, sparks jutting out from his blade while McCree used the opportunity to fire again. But instead of the headshot he was going for, the wind changed and the ship bounced upward, causing him to only hit her shoulder. Still, it was enough, as Widowmaker’s gun clattered to the floor while she gripped her shoulder. Dark blood began to seep from the wound as she hurried out of view from the assailants.

Slipstream grinned, and blinked. The next instant, she had crossed the gap and was on the Overwatch ship. “Hello, Loves! How ya doing? Man, talk about a place to fight! Whoops!” she blinked out of the way of one of Jesse’s shots. “Aww, we can’t have you shooting me. That wouldn’t do at all!”

“D.va! Close the door!”

“Roger!” she shouted.

Slipstream tsked. “That won’t do, either!” She darted past the barrier Orisa put down and grabbed Hana’s hand before she could press the button to close the hangar door. “Fancy device you got there!” she complimented. “I’m keen on the style! But it’s missing something, isn’t it?” What if I were to…” Hana’s eyes widened.

“How about you  _don’t_  do tha…” she was interrupted as Slipstream shot the cable attaching the chronal accelerator to the charger.

“Gotta go now, bye!”

“No! Don’t!” Hana screeched. But it was too later. Slipstream grabbed Hana and threw her towards the door, then bounced out of the ship and onto her own while the light in D.va’s harness flickered and died. She tried to close the door to the hangar but it was too late. Her form flickered as she once again destabilised. Unable to stop her momentum from Slipstream grabbing her, she fell out of the ship towards the ocean below.

The ship began to dive as Efi screeched from her hiding spot under the controls of the ship as she jumped out and attempted to steer the ship.

“Genji!” McCree shouted. The cyborg didn’t waste any time, grabbing the chronal accelerator and the severed chord in the blink of an eye, using his hand to hold the two ends together as he ran to the door of the ship, wrapping the chord around his arm. He jumped out right as Hana began to free fall. McCree grabbed onto chord that ran to the charger, which was surprisingly long. Orisa joined in, grabbing the cowboy as she held firmly onto the ship.

Genji swung from the chord as the accelerator relit as he held the wires together. Efi, having managed to gain haphazard control of the jet, steered downward to where Hana was falling. She was about to hit the water when Genji grabbed onto her, the harness snapping her back to the present as their momentum continued their swing several metres. Hana was gasping for breath as Genji held onto her by the hip.

“Are you okay?” he asked as the wind whipped by them.

“I have no idea!” Hana shouted, though they could barely hear each other. The Talon ship grew further awat as McCree and Orisa pulled the twosome back onto the ship, wherein Efi immediately closed the door as the wind finally quieted. The panting of everyone’s breath was painfully quiet compared to the fury from seconds ago.

“The charger…!” Hana gasped as she clutched her chest. Her voice was distorted, fading in and out. “I think it’s broken…”

Genji kept a secure grip on the broken cord, but sure enough, the charger appeared ready to fall apart as it sparked sporadically. As soon as Genji set the device down, it seemed to fall apart as loose pieces detached themselves. Hana grimaced and sat down on the floor of the jet in an attempt to move as little as possible so as to prevent falling through the floor of the jet. Her form destabilised.

“Oh no… oh no… Efi repeated. “I’m going to take us back to my lab! We’ll get there in no time and I’ll fix the harness! You won’t be gone for more than an hour!” Efi yelled from the cockpit, struggling to fly the jet.

Hana just rubbed her temples. She looked to Jesse and signed one of the few words she knew.

_”Sorry.”_

McCree blinked. “Don’t be. You didn’t slow us down or make this a failure. We got a hit on the sniper, that’ll hurt her shootin’ arm for a few days.”

Genji chimed in. “Not to mention, Sombra gave me some information about Talon’s next move, and she gave me some piece of technology that seems useful for something.”

The cowboy blinked. “Okay, first up, you trust her words? Second up, whatever she gave ya is probably gonna kill us all!”

“I don’t think so… she was acting very different.”

“That’s not enough to- you know what?” he said, looking to Hana, who was just rubbing her temples to distract herself. “We’ll have this argument later. That said, while I wish we could’ve gotten Lena… this wasn’t a total failure, okay?”

Hana nodded noncommittedly. Then she blinked into nothingness.

McCree groaned immediately after Hana was gone. “God dammit, Genji. What weapon of mass destruction did that bitch give you?”

“Language!” Orisa chided from the side.

“I’m… not certain.” Genji opened the locker and grabbed the device. “She said Efi would recognise it, though.”

Efi perked up at the mention of her name. “Really? Bring it here.”

Sure enough, Genji did. Efi gasped upon seeing it. The jet she had been struggling to control hiccupped as she used one hand to grab the device as she rolled it around in her hand in disbelief.  “No way… she… she gave you this?”

“Yes…?” Genji replied, confused. “What exactly is it?”

“If it’s what I  think it is… Sombra just gave you a chronal battery.”

 


	29. Water

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, you guys are mean. Of course, you picked normal story. Unfortunately, I didn’t have enough time to write the next normal chapter. However, this was a scene I was planning to write next chapter anyway, and since it got a few votes, I extended the scene a bit and went with this. This’ll let me get into the action faster next chapter, and it is relevant in its own way, even if it might not seem like it immediately. I know I’m a little late, but that’s, like, by minutes my time. So, cut me some slack please, hahah. Anyway, happy anniversary! Thank you so much to everyone who’s been with this story from the beginning, and thank you to all those who are just now finding this tale I began on a whim. It means so much to me that you all like what I do. So, without further ado, here’s a short and sweet chapter for you guys. The pain train will be picking up next time, though, don’t worry.
> 
> P.S.: I just made some major changes to how some events are going to unfold in the story, so I might need to take a bit longer so I can get the details worked out. Thanks for your patience!

**Chapter 29- Water**

 

_It was supposed to be an easy mission. For the most part, it was. Tracer, McCree, and Genji had been stationed in Ilios for a few days to watch for Talon activity. Supposedly, there had been suspicious sightings of people scouting out the ruins. Nothing major or impossible to handle. None of the threesome actually expected there to be a robbery, much less in the broad daylight during tour hours._

_Tracer was with Genji, perched atop the ruins, out of sight of most of the civilians. McCree was in the boat they had been supplied by Overwatch, checking the coast for any signs of people trying to get into the ruins illegitimately via water. It was a fairly normal speedboat, and the threesome decided to sleep there rather than book a hotel for the couple days the trip lasted. At Tracer’s request, the boat had a charger on it for her harness. The ship Thankfully, was big enough for all of them to take shifts sleeping while keeping watch. It was the third day of their stakeout, and so far, they hadn’t seen any suspicious activity._

_“Bloody Hell, I wish they’d just hurry up and do something.” Tracer moaned, shifting impatiently from her spot on the ancient building. It was moderately busy, with tourists gawking over the old structures._

_“Well, we’ll check the ruins one more time tonight before leaving,” Genji said in monotone, like they’ve had this conversation before. “I’m just as sick of this as you are. I’ve heard the same tour guides give the exact same rant on the building several dozen times now.”_

_“Oh come on, it ain’t that bad,” McCree offered over the intercoms. “At least the weather’s nice.”_

_“Says the one on a boat in the ocean,” Tracer retorted. “You get to feel the breeze at least. We’re absolutely dying up here!”_

_“Speak for yourself,” Genji snorted. “Although, aren’t your clothes all black? That doesn’t seem like the wisest outfit in regards to heat or subtlety.”_

_“Says Mr Green-light-up-cyborg.”_

_Lena chuckled, absently watching her finger as she spun it around with the blue gear on her harness. “To be fair, it’s better than his old look. Meanwhile, I kinda miss my sailor hat from my old cadet outfit!” She was still getting used to her Blackwatch outfit, which she didn’t wear very often. Her Tracer outfit with all its bright oranges and yellows was not a great fit for the occasional “stealthier” mission where attention was not something they wanted. Her Blackwatch outfit was fairly comfortable, with a thin, short sleeve grey shirt and leggings that were easy to run in. The harness for her chronal accelerator was deep black and able to withstand bullet fire, and her bright blue gear was spinning on her chest and back. She had leather gloves that reached up her forearms; they were a similar colour to the light of the accelerator. Her blue-tinted goggles were much more reminiscent of a smaller pair of ski goggles. She wore the same shade of accelerator-blue in belts. One wrapped around her waist with a blue and black palette of the Blackwatch logo buckle asymmetrical and on her side. Two more belts that were attached to her harness wrapped around her legs and kept it in place. Tracer’s black and grey pistols were in holsters on her sides. Her spiky hair was brushed backwards rather than being allowed to go wherever it pleased._

_“Why did you have that hat anyway?” Genji asked as he checked the crowd below for anyone suspicious. “And how did it not fly off your head when you blink?”_

_“First question: because that was the outfit given to me and it was adorable. Second question, probably the same witchcraft that keeps McCree’s hat on at all times,” she answered._

_“Sounds about right,” the cowboy said approvingly. “Ya can’t never go wrong with hats. ‘Specially the ones that confuse the hell out of everyone.”_

_“That’s a double negative,” Genji corrected. “It would be ‘can never’ or ‘can’t go.’”_

_There was a slight pause. “Hear my voice?” McCree asked in monotone._

_“Yes?” the ninja replied in confusion._

_“Listen to it closely, can you hear it?”_

_“I am listening,” the cyborg said impatiently. “Get to the point. Is something wrong?”_

_“No, listen closer.”_

_“I am!” Genji grunted._

_“Now, does it sound like I give a shit about my grammar?”_

_Caught off guard, Lena clamped her hand over her mouth to stifle her snicker as Genji made an indignant squawk. “I find it fascinating that English is my second language, yet you can’t be bothered to get the fundamentals right.”_

_“See earlier comment ‘bout grammar,” McCree yawned._

_“Speaking of hats,” Genji changed the topic, frustrated. “Didn’t your Blackwatch uniform originally include a beanie?”_

_Tracer paused. “Um… it did. Commander Reyes wanted me to wear it. But it makes me look like a drug-dealer so I decided that maaaaaybe it wasn’t the best thing to wear.”_

_Genji huffed. “Don’t let him hear you say that.”_

_“I don’t think he would care,” McCree added. “He doesn’t usually give a shit about that kinda stuff.”_

_“You clearly haven’t mentioned his fashion choice to him,” Tracer shivered melodramatically. “I still have nightmares. I mean, if he wants to wear a beanie that’s all well and good but he took it a liiiiittle personally when I mentioned not liking how one looks on me.”_

_“I’m surprised you lived to tell the tale,” Genji responded, his voice comically sombre._

_“Reyes does have a weird obsession with gettin’ Blackwatch a bunch of black and red outfits, though. Just be glad Tracer didn’t get stuck with that.”_

_Tracer chuckled. “I don’t think anyone wants to tinker with my accelerator if they don’t have to. Too much trouble to get the gear to turn red. Bright blue and bright red do **not** go together, either.”_

_“I think it could’ve looked cool,” Genji added. He continued watching the crowd, the lights on his armour turned off to hide himself better. “You could have gone for some shocking contrast.”_

_McCree snorted over the communicator. “The only thing shocking about that is that anyone would be willin’ to wear it. Black and blue? Sure, if ya wanna be a sprained ankle, you do you. Black and red? They make ya look nice and menacing,”_

_“And edgy,” Tracer interrupted._

_“But black, blue, and red?” McCree continued without missing a beat. “I think that is the literal opposite of ‘stealthy.’”_

_“I bet I can prove you wrong.”_

_“Really now?” McCree asked sceptically._

_“I’ll get some red and blue armour. Next stealth mission, I’m wearing it. I’ll put twenty dollars on not being spotted.”_

_“That’s a bet I’ll take.”_

_“Guys, hush up for a sec. Girls’ scouts meeting is over. I think we might finally have trouble,” Lena interrupted, poking her head over the bricks as she peered at a suspicious figure down below. He was wearing a dark green hoodie with jeans, which altogether wasn’t too suspicious, but that quickly changed as he branched off from the tour routes of most civilians. Lena watched closely, and a couple seconds later the man walked back out with a backpack._

_“I’m not the only one who finds that to be super suspicious, right?” Tracer asked, already preparing to blink away._

_“He must have hidden the bag before we got here. Strange, given security here doesn’t restrict much short of guns and other firearms.”_

_“Blackwatch really is the rebels…” Tracer muttered, eagerly running her hand over her holsters. “Man we are in so much trouble if we get caught with these. Anyway, see anything, McCree?”_

_“Nothin’ in particular. A few boats a little way’s off.”_

_Tracer watched the man merge into the crowd that was heading towards one of the old buildings where some artefacts were on display. She perched on the edge of the building she was on and launched herself off in the blink of an eye, feeling the wind rush past her as she landed on a higher-up archway. Genji did the same as the two watched the man below. He grouped up with two more people, one an Omnic and the other another man with a prosthetic leg. They didn’t seem to exchange a word._

_One of the men grabbed the backpack from the other and unzipped it. It had several pieces of fabric in it, which the group quickly used to cover their faces. The Omnic included, though he also had a hat on to better hide his model version, partially indicated by the lights on his forehead._

_“This is where we nope the heck in there. Tracer quickly ran her hand over the Blackwatch belt buckle and the middle of it over, turning it into an Overwatch logo. This mission wasn’t one of the shadier ones, it’d be better to show the Overwatch logo instead of Blackwatch. Genji’s newer body didn’t have a Blackwatch logo on anywhere either, thankfully. Genji nodded to Lena and jumped across a few more platforms until he was able to find an area partially in the shadows to jump down and re-join the crowds. Lena continued to watch from above, careful to stay out of anyone’s sights. Genji was much less recognisable compared to Tracer, who had gotten more and more publicity after the Null Sector Uprising. Not to mention, she had blatantly obvious firearms strapped to her waist and a giant glowing thingy on her chest that any employee in their right mind would call the authorities on in an instant._

_Nobody was paying attention to the shady people until they started being noisy._

_“And they’ve got a couple guns… They must have planted the bag before we got here…” Tracer said, quieting her voice as Genji hurried through the crowds._

_“Careful, they might take hostages,” McCree warned. “D’ya need me to get over there?”_

_“Hang on,” she replied carefully._

_One of the men pointed his gun in the air and fired a shot as the bang shook the building. People and Omnics screamed and began running out the building. “And I’m coming!” Tracer launched herself off the rooftop and took off running towards the robbers. One little girl, however, maybe ten years old, had her arm grabbed by the Omnic. She started screaming as he pointed a gun at her while everybody else fled from the building. “Genji, I got the girl!” she called._

_The two men were hurrying to fill their backpacks with some small but valuable items from the room. With a blink, Tracer entered the room. She tapped the Omnic on the back of his shoulder. “Heya luv, watcha lookin’ at?”_

_They didn’t hesitate, whipping around to fire at Tracer while still clutching the girl by her arm. It was enough of a distraction though, as Tracer blinked behind him again, knocking the gun out of his hand and grabbing the girl. She began to run, carrying the now-shivering child in her arms. She didn’t want to blink with the girl in her arms if she didn’t have to do so. She peeked behind her as she ran. Genji had jumped into the fight and engaged with the other two men. The Omnic had picked up his gun and was aiming at her. Deciding she needed to risk it, Tracer activated her blink as she dropped to the floor just when the gun went off. She winced as she felt the bullet whizz over her head. She was almost to the exit. With another burst of speed, she got back up and darted out._

_The crowd had mostly run off, though Tracer definitely noticed one woman shouting to a nearby Omnic employee that was doing their best to console her. Then the woman noticed Tracer clutching a child, and her face lit up._

_Lena grinned, running over to the woman. “I take it this little angel is yours?”_

_“Yes! Yes, she is! My baby!” Tracer handed the limp child to the woman, who clutched her close to her chest. “Why isn’t she moving, is she okay?”_

_Tracer nodded. “Yep! My blinks might just leave her sick to her stomach for a day or two. She should be fine!” she jumped as she heard another gunshot go off. “Now um, if ya don’t mind, I kinda have to deal with this! See ya!” Tracer pulled out her pistols and ran to join the fight. When she arrived, she saw there wasn’t much of a fight to be had. Genji was calling for McCree to bring the boat close to the shore. The Omnic and one of the men had been knocked unconscious, though the man with the prosthetic leg was running off._

_“Um, guys, hate to be the bringer of bad news, but there’s a boat headin’ over here. Looks like there’s an Omnic drivin’,_

_Lena pulled her glove back and checked her watch, which was able to track the amount of power her chronal accelerator had. She still had plenty left, so she blinked off in the direction of the man who was running away with a backpack in tow._

_“Looks like he’s heading for the cliffs!” Tracer called. “Jesse! Mind meeting us?”_

_“I’m almost done zip tying these guys together, I’ll be there soon,” Genji said as Tracer made a wide blink around a pillar and intercepted the man’s path._

_“Why do ya have zip ties…” McCree muttered._

_“Hello! Where’re you off to? Is all this really necessary? Come on, you know we’re gonna stop you, so why do we gotta- Woah!” Purely on instinct, Tracer recalled as soon as she registered a gunshot ringing out. She jumped back into the pull of time to let it drag her backwards for a brief moment until the chronal accelerator snapped her back into the present. It took her a fraction of a second to reorient herself as her form solidified. She was much further away than she had anticipated, and the man had almost reached the cliffs._

_“McCree! He’s heading your way! Got a little trigger-happy with the recalls!”_

_“Got my hands a bit full here!” he shouted as gunshots rang out then echoed in communicators. “Ya know where that bigger buildin’ is that goes into the ground a bit? I’m straight off the cliff there from the two tiny buildings. Right in between! Oh, shit!” Tracer’s eyes widened as she heard another gunshot as she sped to the small circular area behind the statue. Hoping she saw the boat, she leapt off the edge. Her heart stopped as she saw the endless stretch of way-too-deep water, tensing up as she instinctively guided her blink to the safely into the back of McCree’s boat. He was currently occupied, his prosthetic arm sparking as he ducked behind the controls for the boat, periodically poking his head up to fire at the other ship. His face was covered by a black bandanna as he fought, hiding the majority of his identifying features as the outlaw Jesse McCree._

_“McCree! Gimme controls!” Tracer called, blinking to the controls of the boat. She fired the engine up and prepared to speed after the now escaping boat of criminals. Tracer used one arm to cover her forehead as another bullet flew past the two of them, missing due to the increasing distance between them. Her arm could protect her brain. If she got shot in the head she might not have time to recall. Anywhere else she should be able to react and save herself. But recalling was especially dangerous on the waters._

_A second later, there was another thud as Genji landed on the boat as Tracer immediately took off after the runaways._

_“Alright… alright… just a speedboat…” Tracer muttered, taking a deep breath as McCree and Genji began firing at the ship. McCree aimed for where the propeller and motor were. Lena took a deep breath despite the action. It was just a boat, not a plane._

_“Tracer, we gotta get in closer. Can’t do jack shit with all the wind and water between the bullets and them!”_

_“Aye aye captain!” she used her hand that was covering her forehead to salute McCree as she used her free hand to guide the speedboat. “Let’s see… I fuelled up last night, everything seems okay… just a boat… just a boat…” she had to admit, though, the wind in her hair did feel nice. At least the boat couldn’t crash into the ground at ridiculous speeds, or go haywire in way-too-dangerous ways. She shook her head and commed in since her team couldn’t hear her normally over the wind. “Does it look like we’re gaining on them?”_

_“Definitely,” McCree assured._

_“And how’s your arm?” Tracer asked as Genji prepared to deflect bullets if need-be._

_“Fine enough, just took a shot or two. Nothing that hasn’t happened before,” Jesse grunted, though he still seemed to be in some pain._

_“We have a basic repair kit in the same place we hid Tracer’s charger. Do you need it?” Genji asked as Lena wrinkled her brow._

_“Oi, did you just throw my charger in that box with the chord wrapped around it?”_

_“I didn’t exactly have a bunch of time to wrap that chord. It’s ridiculously long. I had to chuck it all in there unless ya wanna risk it gettin’ shot through,” McCree said as he fired at the boat, which was getting closer. A tell-tale pop meant they must have hit the boat’s engine. “And naw, I’m fine on the repairs for now.”_

_Tracer grunted. “If you broke it…”_

_“I didn’t break it, calm down!” he defended. “Anyway, we’re coming up on ‘em. I think they were tryin’ to get to that giant statue on the little island. Maybe they had a getaway plane there.”_

_“Not anymore! You boys ready for this?” Genji and McCree nodded as they approached the now sputtering boat of their enemies. “I’m gonna circle them for a minute. We’ll go from there! Let’s have a bit of fun!”_

_“For the record, Reyes wants at least one of ‘em alive.” McCree warned._

_The boat almost seemed empty as Lena pulled up next to it, circling around the ship as it finally stopped moving in its entirety. Genji didn’t hesitate, pulling out his katana as he jumped across the void of blue between the groups. McCree stayed where he was as Tracer kept moving. He had Peacekeeper drawn and was ready to fire at a moment’s notice._

_The scenery was pointedly serene, unsettlingly so for a couple precious seconds as the waves lapped the hull._

_Everything burst to life as Genji moved closer to the controls of the ship and checked under the seats, just out of view from Lena and McCree. Gunshots rang out as the cyborg moved his blade in a frenzy while a spray of ammunition bounced in all directions, leaving small indentions on the inside of the once-pristine ship._

_McCree acted before their enemies were done with their rounds of shots. With the deft flick of his wrist, the man clattered to the ground as blood began to leak from his good knee way too quickly while oil dripped and sparks flew from the prosthetic. He screeched in pain._

_Tracer decided now was the time to act. “Genji! I’m coming over!”_

_Within the blink of an eye, Tracer was on the enemy ship as Overwatch’s continued drifting in the path it was on earlier._

_She ducked as the Omnic fired at her, hitting the deck and launching herself off and behind the man McCree had crippled. Using her pistol, she hit him in the back of his head with a clunking sound that made her cringe. He fell unconscious immediately, his eyes rolling to the back of his head. Next, Tracer grabbed the man’s arm. She squeaked as the Omnic took another shot, but Genji was there, behind her, deflecting the shot._

_When she reached the back of the speedboat, she gulped as she saw the deep, endless water below her. She couldn’t help but feel antsy. McCree had taken the controls of the boat and was circling back around. Tracer took a step back, still holding onto the bleeding man._

_“Alright… Alright… three… two… one…” Tracer jumped, allowing herself to fall into the time stream as she zipped forward in a blink, dragging the man behind her as she lunged towards the ships. Her heart stopped as she realized she had been barely too short. She panicked as she hit the hull of the ship. Her and the man began to slide into the chilly water._

_“Hang on! I gotcha!” Lena gasped as McCree grabbed onto her arm, struggling to hold onto her and the man with only one good arm. “Let go of him! I don’t think I can pull the two of you up!”_

_“No way!” Tracer shouted defiantly. Her arms screamed in pain as McCree pulled her on one side and she held the man in the other. “Genji? Could use a hand here!”_

_The cyborg reacted quickly, throwing a shuriken into the Omnic’s chest as he jumped across the length of the enemy’s speedboat into theirs in a single leap. He grabbed Tracer’s arm alongside Jesse, this time with both hands. From there, it didn’t take much effort to pull her and the man onto the ship._

_Tracer gasped in panic as the unconscious Talon agent flopped onto the jet, blood from his shots to the knee already staining the deck. She ran to the large, secured trunk. Pulling out her harness and its long extension cord clumsily and dumping it onto the floor as she grabbed a med pack from underneath it. Throwing it open, she grabbed some gauze and began to wrap it around the man’s knees. The ship continued drifting past the stopped boat. Nobody was expecting another gunshot._

_The Omnic on the other ship was still alive, barely. The lights on his head were dim, and his movements were stiff. Still, he held the smoking gun. The next instant, the Omnic was dead. Oil splattered onto the ship as Genji flung another shuriken, piercing the robot’s neck as the lights dimmed to nothing._

_“Oh God…” McCree muttered as his face paled. “Lena… you might wanna recall…”_

_It took Lena to even realize what happened. But when she looked down, she noticed her stomach was wet with blood._

_“Huh… I probably should…” She gasped as the pain and nausea hit her like a truck._

_So she did. She did recall. But there was a problem. She was on a boat. The boat had been moving the past few seconds. A few seconds ago, for Lena, was now empty waters._

_She screamed in terror as she flung herself into the time stream. The harness snapped her back in place and she dropped into the infinite blue below._

_McCree flinched as loud, incomprehensible noises came from Lena’s communicator that was notably not waterproof. It took him a moment to realize that Tracer was notably not floating and instead was struggling for several seconds before she was submerged in the water._

_“Um… Genji…” McCree said lamely. “Isn’t Lena’s harness made of the same stuff your armour and my arm are? You know? The notably ‘not buoyant stuff?’”_

_“Yeah… except her harness doesn’t have a ballast tank for when she does need to float…”_

_It clicked for the both of them at the same time as they snapped out of their stupor. “Oh God!” McCree ran to the controls of the ship, quickly spinning it around as Genji jumped back onto their vessel._

_Lena re-emerged in a blur of blue, coughing and sputtering with her hair pinned to her face as she tried to blink out of the water, but she had no surface to push off of to get her momentum started. She recalled in a panic, only for “a few seconds ago” to still be in the water. Frantically, she flailed and blinked to try and escape the water. It looked like something was actively pulling her down. Her harness. Her anchor._

_“Genji? Do we have rope?” McCree shouted. The cyborg shook his head in a frenzy. There was no way either of them could get her out of the water without something to hold on to. Lena blinked out of the water one more time in a last, desperate attempt to escape the waters, only to be pulled back under as she ran out of strength. She didn’t come back up this time._

_“Her charger!” Genji gasped. McCree stopped the boat near where Lena had sunk as Genji unplugged the end of the cord from her charger. McCree didn’t miss a beat, quickly unlatching the power to his prosthetic. It went limp at his side, but stopped sparking. He quickly wrapped the cord around it as Genji got a secure grip on the cord._

_Taking a deep breath, McCree threw off his hat and dove into the ocean, using his good arm as he kicked with all his might to reach Lena. Salt water stung at his eyes, but he saw her, sinking as her arms hung above her._

_McCree’s lungs began to burn, but he kept going, grateful the extension cord was so ridiculously long. He reached out with his good arm. He missed Lena’s._

_His chest hurt. He tried again, making a swipe for Lena. He felt the leather of her glove. He tightened his grip, pulling the limp girl up and to his side. He struggled to hold his breath now, but Genji felt the increase in weight and was already pulling them up._

_“God, the ocean is a bitch…!” were the first words McCree sputtered as Genji pulled him to the surface. They set Lena on the deck. She wasn’t breathing._

_Genji unlatched the clasp on the back of her Blackwatch harness and pulled it off her chest, setting it to the side. McCree took over from there, setting his prosthetic under his good arm and using the leverage of his body to perform chest compressions as Genji began to pace tensely._

_“C’mon Lena… you’re fine… c’mon… you’re fine…” he alternated between the two phrases for a few seconds as he continued to try and revive Lena._

_Finally, she gasped, spitting water as she bolted upright. She hacked and coughed, whipping her head around in disorientation. “God… the ocean is a bitch…” she muttered between coughs._

_McCree sighed in relief, chuckling. “I completely agree… Jesus, are you okay?”_

_“I feel like my lungs are on fire,” she admitted, groaning. “Which I guess is better than not feeling anything!” she added with a light-hearted giggle._

_“You gave us quite a scare,” Genji added. “Regardless, I’m glad to see you’re okay. But please, try to not do something like that again.”_

_Lena huffed indignantly, flopping back onto the sun-heated deck of the boat. “I wasn’t **trying** to get shot!”_

_Genji shook his head and went to tend to the man Lena had brought on board. Thankfully, on the ship was an installed makeshift cell hidden under the floorboards. Genji bound and gagged the unconscious man, also taking the time to deactivate his prosthetic leg before hiding him. The room was far from humane, and if he was lucky, the guy would spend most of the trip to the Overwatch jet unconscious._

_“This is gonna be a nightmare for the commander to explain away,” Genji pointed out. “Regardless, I saw the bag of artefacts on their ship. We’ll bring those back by and let the higher-ups deal with explaining that Omnic there.” Genji nodded to the remains of the Omnic that had shot Lena. She winced, touching her abdomen idly._

_“That’s great and all, but I kinda wanna address another thing,” McCree said. He sounded tired. “Why the Hell didn’t ya tell us you couldn’t swim?” he asked Lena._

_She stuttered. “I mean... it never seemed like a big deal.”_

_“But ya almost drowned for cryin’ out loud!”_

_Tracer winced. “Sorry about that. I didn’t want to be taken off the mission for something silly like swimming. I couldn’t have predicted falling in the water!”_

_“Well, wear a life jacket, at least!”_

_“You’re starting to sound like Commander Reyes,” Tracer joked, elbowing McCree. He froze, then groaned, putting his face in his hands._

_“Goddammit you’re right…”_

_“I must agree with Jesse, though.” Genji added as he finished hiding the prisoner. “You really should have pointed out that you couldn’t swim.”_

_“Technically, I didn’t know for certain that I couldn’t swim.” Tracer retorted. “I’ve not **needed** to swim since way before the Slipstream. So really, I had suspicions that I couldn’t but I technically didn’t know.” She grinned. “Is that a good enough excuse?” Tracer pumped her fist weakly into the air as McCree rolled his eyes. “Changing the subject now, we did it! God, I can’t wait to go back to Switzerland… I need a drink.”_

_“Hey, that’s my line!” McCree complained. “Besides, aren’t you twenty? Still underage.”_

_Lena shrugged. “Purely from a time standpoint? Yeah. Though I might still be nineteen if we’re talking biological age. I don’t friggen know. But that’s just in the U.S.! In England and Switzerland, I’m more than old enough!”_

_“Guess I can’t stop ya. Whatever, I could use a drink, too. I’ll put it on Genji’s tab.”_

_Genji made an indignant squawk. “Hey! Leave me out of this!”_

_“Oh, like I haven’t covered your drinks before! You drink like a fish!”_

_“Hush.”_

_Lena laughed, finally sitting up and stretching, though her lungs still burned. “Then it’s settled! I guess it’s about time we get the stuff back to Ilios… What’s gonna happen to the prisoner, anyway?”_

_“The Blackwatch usual,” McCree admitted after a moment. “Nothin’ too bad though, from what I’ve heard.”_

_Lena winced and shrugged. “Shouldn’t have asked, I suppose. Man, remind me to never get on Commander Reyes’ bad side.”_

_Jesse scoffed. “Please, like he’d ever lay a finger on you. Anyway, let’s get outta here. I’m lookin’ forward to that drink now. Also, you might wanna tell Reyes about the whole swimmin’ thing.”_

_“I’d rather not if I don’t have to! I don’t want to be excluded from missions I can help on just because of a silly risk, like we don’t risk our lives in more insane ways every other mission. I fought Null Sector’s army! I’m pretty sure ‘slight risk of drowning’ isn’t a deal breaker.” She argued, taking up the controls of the speedboat once Genji got the backpack they needed. The ninja couldn’t help but notice how tense her voice was, and how she avoided looking at her harness for anything other than making sure she was close enough to it, the way her movements were stiff and her eyes looking ever-so-slightly down. He could relate with her, right now._

_McCree looked like he was about to argue. Genji nudged him in the shoulder and muttered under his breath. “Drop it for now. She’s already upset.”_

_The cowboy looked at Genji, then to Lena, then to her harness, then back to Genji. He sighed and nodded. He’d put the argument off for another day. Today, they needed a drink._


	30. London

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Jesus Day everybody! I hope you all are having a wonderful holiday. I'm kinda struggling from artist's block right now, but I managed to get you all a gift in the form of chapter 30. Enjoy!

** Lost in Time: Part 5- Strings **

 

 

** Chapter 30: London **

“I am in position,” Pharah commed in as she lay stretched out on one of the rooftops, peering through the scope of her sniper rifle as the crowd below murmured in front of the stage that had been put up. “But tell me, why didn’t the authorities cancel the event after several anonymous warnings of attack? Why isn’t there any other security measures taken in the slightest?”

“According to the bots down here, most folks are dismissing it as an idle threat from the people that aren’t for Omnic rights,” Lúcio explained from his hiding spot in one of his fans’ home in the Underworld. The whirr of machinery droned on in the background with the rest of the usually bustling city remaining eerily quiet. The home was more like a one-story apartment, and was surprisingly tidy and normal-looking, save the lack of human amenities such as a sink or refrigerator. Lúcio began to attach his skates as Symmetra spoke up from her spot on the her hard-light chair next to him. “To be fair, we don’t even know how seriously to take Sombra’s advice. For all we know, she was luring us away. Otherwise we probably would’ve tried harder to end the event.”

“Our defences are set up. The Omnics here are still opposed to allowing us to take the remnants of their frankly antiquated Null Sector technology. They seemed content to allow those rustic remains continue collecting dust. Regardless, we will be moving to our positions soon. We will be losing connection until further notice.”

McCree grunted in annoyance from his spot in the all-too-noisy crowd, his frosty breath dissipating the next second in the chilly air, where standard civilian clothes did enough to keep him from being noticed. “Talon prolly has some of their old tech still. Why do they need the remains of half a dozen old Bastions with maybe an OR14 or two?”

Reinhardt and Orisa stood shoulder-to-shoulder in front of the Underworld power plant as the bustling of the gathering could still be heard in the distance. Any nearby civilians likely wouldn’t be happy with the large amount of noise at three in the morning. However, it was the safest time for Omnics not working in a shop or restaurant to be on the streets without fear of assault. “They probably want more. I’m willing to bet they’ve reduced any of their earlier ‘scraps’ to useless hunks of junk. As for why they want old e54s from the pits of the Underworld rather than the hundreds left in Eichenwalde, I couldn’t say.

“Likely in better condition,” Winston offered from the ship with Efi. “The Underworld has much better conditions than the Black forest. The Bastions and OR14s there are likely rusted beyond use, and finding one that isn’t would be like finding a needle in a haystack.”

“And here I thought the commander was the only one to use old man expressions,” Genji joked from behind the stage, acting as a diligent bodyguard for his master. “Still, I can’t help but wonder why Talon has gone after the items that they have. Some old Null Sector tech, bombs of the Junkers, and some OR15 scraps and data? None of the technology is particularly revolutionary.”

“Hey!” Efi grunted indignantly from her post on the dropship. “What was that about OR15s?”

Mercy chuckled. “He said OR15’s, not Orisa. I doubt he meant to insult her.” She sighed, watching the overcast sky as the occasion flurry of snow drifted to the ground, settling on the rooftop beneath her for a second before melting. Her Valkyrie suit shone a warm yellow as she crouched on the edge of the building, poised to fly at a moment’s notice.

“If it’s any consolation, I am far from offended,” Orisa’s warm, unbothered voice was likely the only reason Efi dropped the topic so willingly.

“I’m up to speak in a few minutes. Are you all prepared?” Zenyatta asked one more time, as if to confirm. Everybody confirmed at once, making the microphones hectic to listen to for a split second before everyone quieted down.

“Are you guys sure I shouldn’t be in my mech?” D.va pulled the heavy coat around herself tighter to conceal her now-finished chronal accelerator. “I only had a couple days to practice with blinks. I still can’t even figure out how to recall. I don’t know if I can stop someone that’s had the same powers for eight years.”

“Don’t worry ‘bout that. Lena’s tough, but with all the firepower we’ve got goin’ against her, we should be alright.” McCree tried to comfort, though his voice was laced with poorly concealed uncertainty.

“Still, what does that have to do with me not using my mech? Everything about this just feels… wrong. I feel like I’m trying to be the off-brand, not as good knockoff of Tracer.” Hana chuckled at her own half-joke, simultaneously trying to lighten the mood and change the topic, only accomplishing in doing neither as her unease showed.

“Calm down, Agent Song. You are more than capable of doing this. Keep in mind, we’ve got your back,” Pharah's level voice calmed her, and yet there was a hint of radiated authority underneath that Hana found some strange solace in.

“I do not blame you for your concerns, though, Agent Song. We will discuss this when the mission is over. Just calm down, and focus on the present.” Mercy added, her voice much more soothing compared to Fareeha’s.

D.va agreed with a tired sigh as Zenyatta stepped onto the stage with Genji following close behind. The crowd roared in excitement as Zenyatta took his place at the pedestal.

“Greetings humans and Omnics. We are all one within the Iris.” He mirrored his late friend’s speech as the crowd grew sombre.

“A couple short months ago, I lost a brother to me in this same spot. His mission in bringing peace between humans and Omnics was ended all-too-soon, but that is something we must no longer weep over. Now is the time to celebrate his brief but impactful life as we continue to pursue that which he wished for with all his heart. Peace between humans and Omnics is not as elusive as some might have you believe…”

…

“Are you sure that Sombra lady wasn’t lying when she told Mr Genji they were coming to King’s Row?” The Oladele child’s voice echoed in Sombra’s ear, barely at a volume loud enough for her to hear with the sound set so low.

“Have you been able to hack into Overwatch’s communicators?” Reaper asked, his raspy voice sending a chill down her spine.

“No, they must’ve improved their firewalls. Maybe Amari’s kid taught them a thing or two about how to build a secure server. Sorry ‘bout that, Gabe.” Sombra didn’t like how long Reaper stared at her for one, two, five seconds. She had the feeling the brief shiver wasn’t just from the snow flurries tickling her face.

Not a moment too soon, he turned his attention to the path the two of them had planned to reach the Omnic’s Underworld. Sombra watched the ghost of a man dissolve into his signature black mist as he jumped off the building and regathered himself into his human form once he was off the illuminated brick streets and safely hidden in the shadows of the alley. Sombra sighed, going over her plan in her head as she jumped from rooftop to rooftop, occasionally tossing her translocator into the air as she was transported to otherwise unreachable locations. Reaper was on to her, no doubt about it. He was beginning to grow suspicious of her behaviour. That wouldn’t do. Sombra’s best bet was to try and retrieve the OR14 tech they wanted. If she couldn’t do that, she’d need to come back with a fair few injuries. Either one should work.

Honestly, Sombra didn’t even know why she was bothering to deceive Reaper. She didn’t know why she kept leaking tips to Overwatch. Slipstream was happy in Talon, so she had no reason to feel bad. There was nothing to be guilty about.

“Mind refreshing me on why we can’t just use the OR14 files we’ve got stored away on the database?” Sombra squinted as the snow flurries got in her eyes, idly wishing she had goggles as she made a particularly large jump to the windowsill of an apartment building. Her heart skipped a beat as she struggled to find a foothold and climb up to the rooftop.

“You know why. The base we kept the parts in got destroyed, and data is only so useful when we need the actual pieces. Now quit complaining and get to the objective.”

“Easy for you to say, mere humans like myself aren’t made to parkour over rooftops.” She could hear the crowd from the Omnic rights gathering in the distance. “Sounds like a party over there. Widow? S? How’re you two holding up?”

Slipstream sounded like an eager child as the crowd echoed through her mic. “Oh, y’know, I’m just basking in the nostalgia of this. Feels like just yesterday Widowmaker was trying to kill me in this very same place…”

“I’m tempted to try again,” the assassin snarled. “Regardless, tread carefully. The Omnic monk is on the stage with the Cyborg. They’re probably not the only ones, either.”

“Aw, Genji must be worried about his master. He’s standing behind him like a guard dog. Attacking Zenny there would probably be the most fun way to KO Genji!” Slipstreams childlike giggle would’ve been adorable without the context of her mental state. “Knowing Jesse, he’s probably hiding in the crowd, nice and armed. The doc will have her Valk suit on so she’s gonna be hiding out somewhere for when someone needs some patching up. Winston’s probably on a rooftop somewhere, too. That’s assuming they know we’re here, though. So, pinch of salt.”

“How would Overwatch know we’re over here?” Sombra asked, hoping to dispel some of Reaper’s doubts about her.

“They knew we were in Numbani. Imma say Hana was their secret weapon. Chronal disassociation is weird like that.”

Reaper was interested by this. “Oh? You mean to tell me you can control those dreams I’ve heard about?”

“Ehhhh maybeeee? It’s not very specific, I think it’s just got to do with what’s on your mind while your partying in the Time Void thingy. But you can’t control many of the specifics. I mean, I can try if you want me to, but no promises. Would the sympathiser even come with me if I disappeared?”

“It would. Why? Do you think you’d not follow orders otherwise?” Reaper asked, his voice almost playfully curious.

Slipstream scoffed. “If I was able to, I’d probably be offended by that! But let’s be honest here, Tracer was a complete wreck after all those games of yours. So, if you want me to be any levels of productive, shiny pink eyes are the way to go!”

“And here I am, the only person here _not_ super messed up in the head.” Sombra rolled her eyes. “Seriously, do you know how weird it is hearing you be so self-aware and so fine with it? I like it better when Amélie just broods in silence about her whole ordeal!”

“I don’t brood.” Widowmaker retorted in her signature annoyed yet indifferent tone.

“I’ll stop if you want.” Sombra winced as Lena’s playful voice shifted to complete neutrality intent on following orders as closely as possible. Sombra had to wonder if that meant anything. Was her lack of emotion due to brainwashing, or did it mean that no matter what, there was no happiness for her to muster when Reaper ordered her to do something?

“No, keep doing your thing,” the hacker hastily clarified. “Seriously, did you lose your sense of humour with all those feelsy and sad emotions?”

“If anything, I like to think it expanded my palette of enjoyable humour!” she bragged, back to her witty self. “Anyway, when do we get to start having some fun around here? I’ve been itching to shoot some stuff! And Genji looks like he’d be a great sparring partner!”

“Christ, calm down,” Sombra paused, kneeling down to catch her breath from all the running. “Start by checking the rooftops for some an agent or two.”

“On it!”

“Engage as soon as possible when you see them. Try to catch them off guard,” Reaper ordered.

“As off-guard as someone who has half her body glowing pink can, at least,” Sombra added humorously.

“You got it, Boss! Agent Double S out!”

“Agent… what?” Sombra shook her head and continued running, ignoring the frigid air as her destination grew near.

“Double S. You know? Slipstream? S S?”

“Truly, you are the imaginative mind of the future,” Widowmaker snarled. “Regardless, given the current vantage point, we don’t have a clear shot to engage, but we also can’t see any foes. Changing position now. We will check in when we have something worth reporting.”

“Ten-four Spidergirl.” The power plant that housed the Underworld was only a few buildings away, thank God. Sombra was sick of the frigid weather.

“Sombra, are you sure Overwatch didn’t have some… other means of knowing we’re here?”

The hacker blinked. “Unless they suddenly became hacking prodigies, they shouldn’t have much more than whatever Song dreamed up. Need me to up the security a bit?”

“You’d better, given the entrance is blocked by Wilhelm and the OR15.”

“Really? That’s annoying. Guess I’ll double check the firewalls. What is sleep, anyway? Still, what’s the plan for those two tanking behemoths? I don’t have the super soldier DNA and edgy superpowers, so I volunteer you for that, Gabe!”

Reaper’s annoyance was thinly veiled. “Just make sure you attach the translocation modules onto the bots and get them to the dropship.” With that, Sombra saw Reinhardt and Orisa, both of whom had been rather relaxed, stiffen and ready their weapons as one of them caught sight of Reaper’s smoke. She listened to the altercation between the former friends as she waited for her opportunity to sneak past them.

“Hello, old friend.” Reaper manifested his physical form in front of Reinhardt. The crusader wasted no time, swinging his giant hammer in an arc to strike Reaper, who melted back into the concrete again.

“Stand your ground and fight with honour, Traitor! Your crimes will not be forgiven!”

“Who said I needed honour _or_ forgiveness? Last I checked, I asked for neither.” Orisa remained silent, possibly unsure of how to act, though she was far from helpless as she tracked Reaper’s swirling form as he tried to get by. In a shining flash of gold, a graviton charge seemed to pull Reaper back onto the streets and force his form to recollect. He grunted in annoyance.

“Coward! Is your ego so big as to shield you from the sins you have committed? Do you feel no remorse over all you’ve done?!” Reinhardt’s booming voice reached Sombra clearly, even without hearing it from Reaper’s communicator.

“Why should I? I’ve nothing to lose from this whole ordeal. I’ve nothing to regret.” Reinhardt swung at Reaper again as the ghost wove himself around the hammer and towards the crusader. Orisa reared back, launching another graviton charge with a volley of slow-moving projectiles. Reaper was ready as the charge pulled him upward and back together; he fired his shotgun the moment the opportunity presented itself, the bullets shredding the fabric in the shoulder of Reinhardt’s armour. He barely even flinched as he made an underhanded swing, tearing of the placement of the road. Reaper bellowed a rugged gasp as he was thrown backward, where he once again burst into his wraith form. Reinhardt roared in rage.

“You asinine, cowardly bastard! You destroyed the mind of one of _your_ former agents!”

Reaper’s voice was beginning to strain as he began to swirl in a vortex around Orisa. The centaur wouldn’t have it. She bucked and spun, deploying one of her barrier projectors behind her, preventing Reaper from passing into the Underworld. “Yes, I did. Not that it was easy. She lasted quite a lot longer than most people. She had quite the pain tolerance. It was a joy to see her hopes of you cobbled-together-lot rescuing her slowly die.”

“You know you’re on the open mic, right?” Slipstream giggled as gunfire echoed in the background.

“I’m sorry, you must not have met. Gabriel ‘Master-of-Tact’ Reyes, Slipstream. Slipstream, Gabriel ‘Master-of-Tact’ Reyes.” Sombra was beginning to tire of that mind game of Reaper’s. She decided now was the best time to sneak past as she dropped a translocator and waved her hand, activating her cloak. Reinhardt deployed his shield on Orisa’s other side, essentially boxing Reaper in and forcing him to fight the Omnic. It was Sombra’s chance.

The preoccupied agents didn’t detect Sombra in the slightest as she rushed by them. Now it was a matter of getting down to the Underworld. Quickly running down the path and ducking behind a wall, Sombra peaked through the un-barricaded gaps in the ground. Her stomach lurched at the sickening height. Her translocators couldn’t survive a trip like that. There were chains suspended on the ceiling but nothing long enough to get her down. The Omnic homes seemed almost like cargo holds stacked on top of each other, with tiny lights below flickering ominously to the red hue of the power plant.

The hovering elevator platforms the Omnics usually used to travel to and from the power plant were deactivated. Meaning jumping was Sombra’s only way down. She took a deep breath. She’d need to time this perfectly. She dropped one of her translocators as some weights installed in it automatically oriented it face-up. The purple light flickered on, quickly becoming a speck in the ground. Sombra couldn’t tell how close it was to the ground. She couldn’t wait any longer, though, as she activated the device. The world lurched around her as she was ripped to pieces and reformed at her device, fifteen feet from the ground. Sombra yelped, quickly rolling onto the ground to break her fall, flinching at the sudden stab of pain through her back. It was nothing she couldn’t handle, though, thanks to her spine implants. Stretching, she looked around. The Underworld was deserted. Everything was eerily quiet as Sombra reactivated her invisibility cloak, weaving her way through the maze of Omnic homes, each with their doors shut tight. She knew exactly where the Null Sector remnants were, hoarded by Omnics either out of mistrust or malice. Given the flighty nature of most of the bots down here, she’d wager the former.

Sombra sprinted past an endless number of houses until she reached the one she wanted, which originally appeared as normal as any house. She knew what was inside it, though. The heavy metal door was secured with an electronic lock, child’s play for Sombra. Still cloaked, she tapped the device as purple light from her nails leaked onto the device and the door opened to the squeal of un-oiled hinges. Sombra stepped through the door anxiously. Dim light from the Underworld filtered through as the only light source in the cramped room. The air was musty, she wrinkled her nose and stifled a sneeze. In the centre of the room was a huge pit that seemed to lead to another underground network. Sombra sighed as she began to climb down the greasy ladder. Cleaning her gloves would be her top priority when she got back to the base. All too soon, the light from above was unable to reach her, forcing her to activate the light of her HoloVid and use it as a flashlight. When the ground was close enough, Sombra pushed off of the ladder and hit the ground with a gentle thud. The room seemed to open up, though the only way to know was from the way her footsteps no longer echoed as much. She moved her HoloVid light around in the pitch-black room, though she couldn’t so much as find out where the lights were.

Out of nowhere, there was a deafening roar as the force of a dump truck slammed into Sombra, hurtling her to the right as she crashed to the floor. In that split instance, green light flooded the room, revealing the Null Sector technology ten feet away from where she had been: several bastions and OR14s piled together collecting dust. The light also revealed two enemies: Lúcio Correia dos Santos and Satya Vaswani. The former looking rather angry and the latter wearing a face of calm and control.

Sombra coughed, heaving herself up after checking to make sure she had lost connection to the Talon channel, courtesy of the underground tunnels. “I’m guessing I have no way to beat both of you, huh?”

“Hell no.” Lúcio’s voice cut through the darkness. “You may as well give up now.”

“I would advise not walking any closer.” Symmetra warned.

“Oh, you’ve got some of those beam turret thingies up, huh?” Sombra guessed. Given the lack of a response in the darkness, she figured she was right. “I could take those out easily. Lúcio, is it? You have an exoskeleton on your legs, don’t you? That’s what your hard-light skates attach too, right? I bet if I hacked into those, you’d crumple to the ground in no time, yeah?”

“Don’t even try it,” The DJs signature light-hearted tone was completely absent.

“I won’t, I won’t. That’d be pretty dumb on my part. There’s no way I could take out the beam turrets and your cybernetics without being clonked upside the head. I’d EMP, but I don’t feel like deactivating my own tech at the same time. I’m not stupid, I’ve got no way to win this. I figured this would happen.”

“Then why did you decide to come down here? What are you planning?” Symmetra’s asked in a level voice.

“I’m planning to let you guys scuff me up, then to get the hell outta dodge so Reaper will think you kicked my ass.”

Lúcio hesitated, stumbling over his words. Suddenly, his outfit flickered to life. His skates began to glow a vivid green alongside his sound gun, casting an ethereal glow on the ground around him. “What do you mean by that?” He was far from lowering his guard, though perhaps he wanted to get a better view of Sombra’s face. Her slid over to the hacker.

“Agent dos Santos, I don’t think that’s wise.” Symmetra warned, her photon projector shimmering a vibrant blue.

“Just… have my back, Vishkar,” Lúcio took a deep breath and skated closer to Sombra, who leaned calmly against the wall. “So, what’s this about going behind Reaper’s back?”

Sombra yawned. “Do me a favour and keep this on the down-low. I’m dead if the boss finds out. Regardless, yeah. Contrary to popular belief, Talon is only _mostly_ full of murderous psychopaths. Seriously, most of them have the personality of Timmy’s first OC. Cough cough Reaper cough!” Sombra made the motion with her hand as though she was coughing, though she spoke the word rather than making the sound. He likes to tiptoe around the ‘moral grey area,’ as he calls it.”

Lúcio rolled his eyes. “Yeah, Kidnapping, torturing, brainwashing, and mind controlling someone. _Super_ morally grey.”

The hacker chuckled. “I personally draw the line after the brainwashing part. Mind-control is the step too far.” She noticed Lúcio’s expression. “ _Relajate,_ I’m joking. You really think I thought it’d go as far as it did? News flash, I didn’t _._ ”

“That does not change the fact that you were the one to begin this whole ordeal.” Symmetra retorted.

Sombra winced. “Yeesh, way to antagonise me. But wait… if you antagonise the antagonist, is that like a double negative? Ah whatever, English sucks. But did I say I was asking for forgiveness? Because I’m not. However, I want to strike a deal with you guys.”

“What kind of deal?” The roller skater glared suspiciously.

“I tell you guys where we’re planning to attack, and you find ways to show up and interfere without A: killing me, and B: making it blatantly obvious I told you where we’re going.”

“What do you have to gain from an arrangement like that?” Satya asked, the blue glow of her weapon highlighting her sceptical expression.

“I have my own goals. Goals that are nobody’s business but my own. Talon’s plan happens to screw with mine in every way possible.”

“This is all for your own gain, you mean? Nobody else?” Lúcio might have been catching on.

“Nobody else.”

“What is Talon’s plan, anyway?”

Sombra sighed. “You’ll know when it matters. I can’t tell you that much. You need to respond organically to it or my cover is toast. Still, do we have a deal?”

Lúcio hesitated. “You mean you’ll give us the times and places Talon’s will be attacking in exchange for not selling you out and not killing you?”

Symmetra held up a hand. “I’m assuming we can find organic ways to have our presence in those locations?”

The hacker laughed. “I’m not a genie trying to extort your wishes and turn them against you. Nah, you’re fine on that front. Find a decent reason to be there, and we’ll be hunky-dory. Though, if you guys don’t give me an out, I’m going to have to follow my orders. Now then, deal?”

Lúcio glanced at Symmetra, who nodded hesitantly. “Deal.”

Sombra clapped her hands together. “Wonderful! Then, I’ll leave this Null Sector tech alone and be on my way. But first, remember how I mentioned having an out? Yeah, I’ll need you to zap me with your ray gun.”

…

“Amari’s daughter. A fitting enemy for a sniper duel,” Widowmaker commented as she ducked behind the railing of the building to avoid the rifle shot aimed for her head.

“Yeah, but I think she knows she can’t beatcha. Look how she’s hiding behind cover half the time!” Slipstream laughed as Mercy fell out of the sky, plummeting to the earth with her suit’s wings adequately destroyed. She hit the ground with a thud, and Lena could still hear Genji shriek her name over the chaotic roar of the crowd.

Slipstream launched herself off the rooftop, blinking to the ground where she prepared to shoot as many people as possible. Unfortunately, before she could hit the ground, pain exploded in her stomach as a shot from the crowd pierced her abdomen. She snorted-slash-coughed in amusement and let her neon pink light coat her as she fell back into the time stream, appearing back on the rooftops. Finally, some fun. She tried again, this time waiting a split second longer before activating her blink. The delay was enough to cause her shooter to miss his mark. The crowds had mostly dispersed by now, though catching up to them wouldn’t be hard.

“Howdy Lena,” her old friend greeted her.

Slipstream laughed. “Wow! I didn’t know you had that in you! I’m impressed! Does this mean you’re finally ready for a half decent fight? By the way, I thought you looked ridiculous in your cowboy Halloween costume, but somehow you manage to look even weirder in jeans and a t-shirt! What color is that anyway? Imma assume red.”

“Imma do what I have to do to getcha home.”

“Well… shoot. Still sentimental. Not like you at all, Jess. What happened to the edgy, impersonal soldier that would shoot a baby if he was ordered to do so?”

“What happened to the kind-hearted optimist that would do everything in her power to help the innocent?” He held Peacekeeper up, prepared to shoot at a moment’s notice.

Slipstream hummed, impressed as she swung her legs around in a casual twirl, as though a gun wasn’t pointed at her. “Touché,” she responded in a melodious voice. “But anyway, speaking of innocent, gotta run. The Boss wants a few dead bodies and me to go viral. See ya!”

McCree finally Peacekeeper as Slipstream effortlessly blinked out of the way with a giggle. It wasn’t so effortless when she tried to blink past him, only to be intercepted by a flash of softer pink.

Slipstream crumpled to the ground, rubbing her chin as she comprehended what just happened. “Hana? That you, Luv? Did you just _punch_ me of all things?”

“Sorry, I would’ve gone with a ranged attack, but when melee is faster than a bullet… you make do.” Slipstream looked over D.va, who looked considerably different from usual.

“Finally got a full-blown harness, huh? I dig the look, though! Still got the headphones and MEKA suit, easy to tell it’s you, but the harness, the goggles…” she jumped back up, blinking to the back of Hana then back to her front, inspecting her outfit. “Trying to be the new Tracer, huh? How’s that working out for you? The ponytail is a nice touch, though. I’m lucky enough to have short hair, but with that Rapunzel mane you’ve got- woah!” she blinked upward in a relatively long jump, angling her momentum to land her to the side as Hana attempted to blink towards her again, perhaps to tackle her. D.va yelped as she dodged, staggering for a few steps as she lost balance. Slipstream jumped in, shooting her pulse pistols as Hana scrambled to blink away, wincing as bullets pierced her left arm.

“Sloppy. When you blink, you gotta make sure you’ve got a plan for how to collect yourself if they dodge. Not to mention, you don’t wanna blink straight at them. That’s how you get countered hard. Come on, recall, we’ll try it again,” Slipstream made a casual gesture with her arm, pointing Hana bac to where she was a few seconds ago.

Hana glared at Slipstream, blinking towards her again as she attempted to get behind the Talon agent. Slipstream countered without a problem, kicking her leg out to trip Hana in a blur of pink. D.va fell for it, toppling to the ground.

“Too obvious that time! Come on, now! You gotta shake it up a bit more than that!” Suddenly, Slipstream quirked an eyebrow and held up a finger for Hana to wait as she pressed another to her ear. “You know you’re on the open mic, right?” After that, she put her hand down. “Sorry ‘bout that. Now, recall, come on, try again.” Hana didn’t say anything as she jumped to her feet and waited tensely for Slipstream to try something. She quirked her head after a moment until realisation dawned in her eyes. She belted out a hysterical laugh.

“You can’t recall, can you?” Hana continued to not say anything. “Oh man! I don’t even know what to say to that! That’s equal parts pathetic, confusing, and hilarious! It came pretty naturally to me! I wonder why you’re any different. Alas, I suppose ‘being Tracer 101 lessons’ will have to be postponed until you get your act together and learn how to use her powers. That’s your homework assignment for tonight. Until then…” Slipstream scanned her surroundings. Police sirens could be heard in the background, and there were a couple stragglers, either being too petrified to properly try and escape or just being purely stupid. Both worked. She even saw one man holding a phone to record her. She grinned. The perfect target. His eyes widened when he noticed her staring at him as he took a reluctant step away. Before she could blink, she felt a searing pain in her side as Hana shot her with her little peashooter of a gun.

Instantly, Slipstream recalled and prepared to blink away. But the moment she was out of the recall time stream, there was another shot in her back from McCree. When she recalled this time, she blinked immediately, but it wasn’t enough as Genji this time darted towards her and grabbed the strap of her accelerator. She spun around to hit him with her pistol, but Hana quickly blinked by and grabbed it out of her hand. Genji wasted no time ripping her accelerator off her and throwing it behind him. McCree scooped it up and kept it out of her reach as Genji spun her around to hold her arm behind her back.

Lena strained against his grip, but knew there was no way she was breaking out. She huffed as D.va wasted no time destroying her prosthetic leg in a shower of sparks and oil, forcing her balance to become lopsided as Genji held her in a standing position.

“Hey guys, I could use a little hand here!” she called into her mic.

“Lena, please, let us help you,” Mercy pleaded, walking up next to Genji. She had blood on her and a slight limp, but other than that seemed relatively okay.

“Hmm let me think about that no,” she said without pause.

Pharah’s voice cut through the Overwatch intercoms. “Sniper above! Aiming for you guys!”

Genji reacted immediately as the explosion of Widowmaker’s gun made everyone save Lena jump. He released Lena as she fell to the ground from the imbalance of her leg being severed. Genji tore holes in the concrete road as the force of Widowmaker’s bullet fought against his sword. Slipstream smirked; Genji ran off to confront the sniper as Mercy ducked behind the brick wall. Hana grabbed Lena’s wrist to restrain her further. Slipstream’s smirk melted into a sinister grin as she grabbed the severed part of her prosthetic before putting her hand directly on Hana’s accelerator. Before Hana could realise what Slipstream was doing, she pulled them both back in a recall as the prosthetic repaired its damage. Hana gasped in disorientation as she found herself in her prior location. Slipstream bowed.

“And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how you recall. Strange that you can’t activate it yourself, given you can join me in a recall just fine. Whatever. Anywhoozles… can I have my harness back?” She turned to Jesse, who had a glare that said he wasn’t planning on giving her harness up any time soon. He held her harness firmly in his prosthetic.

“McCree! Sniper after you!” Genji shouted. McCree immediately put his hands up to cover his head as the gunshot rang out. The bullet tore through his prosthetic arm that was holding the accelerator. The prosthesis sparked and fell limp at his side, the accelerator slipped from his grasp as Slipstream immediately grabbed it and blinked away before anybody could react. She turned to face them, slinging one of the straps haphazardly over her shoulder.

“And we’re back on!” Slipstream paused and put her hand to her ear. “Aw… retreat? No fun… Ah- I mean, you got it, Boss! Be right there!”

Alright, sorry guys, not that this hasn’t been fun, but I gotta go. Until next time! Hana, work on those recalls!”

When Slipstream’s goal was to get away, nobody could catch her. Hana tried to blink up the building Lena was quickly working her way up, but she lacked the grace to efficiently blink between windowsills. She had to spend a moment to decide where to blink and another to regain her balance after blinking.. She stopped and growled when she realized she had no hope of catching Lena, who was already a neon pink blur disappearing over the rooftops. She jumped back down to the group. “I had no chance of catching her, sorry…”

“Dammit… next time, we bring some of Amari’s sleep darts.” McCree took a deep breath, glaring in the direction Slipstream disappeared.

“Do not blame yourself, Miss Song,” Mercy comforted, coming out of cover once Fareeha confirmed the sniper had left. According to her, Widowmaker had shot and destroyed her sniper rifle. “You performed very well for having only a few days to practice. Now, let me see your arm.” Mercy held out her Caduceus staff as the golden nanotechnology washed over Hana’s outstretched arm. She hadn’t even realised her arm was bleeding so badly until the nanobots stopped the blood flow. D.va suddenly felt lightheaded.

“I really need to figure out how to Recall… blinks clicked with me in no time, but I just _can’t_ recall yet… I’ll get better, you see.”

Genji hesitated. “I can’t tell if we won that fight or lost it…”

Lúcio’s voice interrupted them through the communicators. “Sombra came to get the Null Sector technology. She left empty handed. We’ve got to have a chat about what she told us, though.”

“Roger that,” McCree grunted. His prosthetic still failed to work. “Are we sure this thing doesn’t magnetically attract bullets…?”

“Sorry for being late to report in!” Reinhardt shouted over the coms, his loud voice peaking and creating a static noise. “Reaper was unable to infiltrate the Underworld!”

Mercy smiled warmly, “And no civilians were harmed. We might not have captured Lena, but we did manage to stop Talon.”

Zenyatta, who had stayed out of the majority of the fight, finally met up with the rest of the group, using his levitator to travel. He was unharmed. “I recorded the entirety of the altercation. Given there were undoubtedly others out there that saw Miss Oxton, there is no way to hide what happened to her. However, now we can show to the world that we are able to stop her. Anyone else who might have caught footage will likely be uploading it soon.”

“And thus, the PR nightmare begins,” McCree groaned. “And down the drain goes Lena’s reputation.”

Mercy took a deep breath, making a calming gesture with her hands. “Overwatch has dealt with worse. I don’t know how, but we’ll find a way through this. For now, let’s go back to Gibraltar and recover.”

“She was so _close_ ,” Genji balled one of his hands into a fist. Zenyatta put a hand on his pupil’s shoulder. Genji sighed and released the tension in his hand, nodding to his master.

“Don’t worry… this’ll be fine… this is all fine,” Hana declared, still not totally over the adrenaline rush of the fight. “We’ll make sure we get Tracer next time!”

 


	31. Trapped

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi people! Another chapter yaaaaaaay. This one actually came a lot easier to me than the past few. Partly because I sped things up by like, four chapters so stuff will actually happen sooner! As for why this chapter came only after soooo long... I'm slow and I've been busy and I'm super sorry. But anyway, here's another chapter! I hope you guys enjoy this one. I had a lot of fun writing it.

Lost in Time Chapter 31

Trapped

…

“Are ya sure ya can’t recall?” McCree asked, handing Hana a water bottle as she flopped half-heartedly onto the bench in the training field he was sitting on. McCree had been sparring with her for an hour now. Both soldiers were coated in a sheen of sweat as they took a short break. Instead of their combat outfits, they were both in the old training uniforms issued to agents back in the glory days of Overwatch, which consisted of unflattering grey shorts and an orange shirt with the Overwatch logo on the back. McCree lit a cigar as Hana anxiously picked at the bandages on her arm from Slipstream’s gun.

“I’ve tried, believe me. Blinking comes naturally, like your level one skills. It’s just a matter of mastering the use of it.”

Jesse nodded. “Lena described somethin’ similar back in the day.” He waited for her to continue, puffing a cloud of smoke into the air. Hana wrinkled her nose at the sharp odour.

“But no matter how much I try, I can’t get it to take me backwards. It doesn’t seem possible. Slipstream has forced me into a recall twice, but she activated it both times. It felt like being flung backwards. But I can’t replicate that feeling myself.”

“Do ya think you’re not experienced enough? Maybe some more practice or time to get the hang of that harness of yours will do the trick?” McCree snuffed out the cigarette in an ash tray he had previously brought to the training field.

“You said Tracer got the hang of it in no time, right?” Hana furrowed her brow in frustration. “Natural skill for her. But I don’t feel like I can do it at all, no matter how much I practice. It doesn’t feel like I’m… failing, per se, more like there’s no way to succeed. Whenever I try to ‘rewind,’ it’s like hitting a brick wall.” She sighed, lifting her new goggles up to let some more air reach her face. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“Well… the sample size ain’t big. You and Lena are the only two people in history to have chronal disassociation. Maybe Lena was the exception? Recallin’ coulda been a completely lucky ability to get.”

D.va hummed, interested. “That, or Talon’s technology is different. Lena got her powers from a freak accident, right? I got mine from a machine designed to give me that condition.”

“No way to know for sure. Though you and Lena have had small differences in your condition. Nothin’ major, but ya looked a bit different than Lena when she would be fadin’ in and out.”

“Really? How so?” Hana sat up and watched the soft pink gear in her accelerator spin.

“Well, Lena always had this blueish hue to her in regards to her powers. When she’d blink, she’d glow blue. Recalls? Yup. Her pistols, which used discharged energy from the harness, also were blue. You’d better believe she was blue when hangin’ out in the stabilizin’ chamber. The gear on her harness was naturally blue too, before Talon messed with it.”

Hana winced as McCree lowered his voice at the end of his sentence. He looked away and flexed his fingers to calm himself down.

“I see what you mean… pink has always been my color,” Hana admitted. “So, either it’s a person-to-person difference, or a result of the technology differences.”

“Maybe… but until someone who knows more science stuff than I do figures out what’s goin’ on with ya, let’s just continue with the sparrin’. Your up-close-n’-personal fightin’ could use some work.”

Hana sighed, forcing herself to her feet. “I never had to learn much more than basic self-defence, and that didn’t even have anything to do with MEKA’s training.”

“Hmm? Whaddya mean by that?” The cowboy held up his fists in a defensive stance, inviting Hana to fight him.

“MEKA is all about fighting in the mech suits. It was mostly physical fitness training to prepare to use those things, along with teaching us how to use a gun and other basics like that.” The gamer activated her blink ability and charged towards McCree. Remembering what Slipstream mentioned, she planted her foot on the ground and flung herself to the right, throwing a fist at his head. He managed to whip around in time to catch the swing, though his stance suffered from the sudden force he caught in his hands.

“Then where’d you pick up self-defence?” McCree asked, as though they weren’t fighting. He quickly righted his stance and threatened to retaliate with a jab of his own, which forced Hana to take a haphazard blink back as she struggled to maintain balance from moving in such an awkward direction.

“I picked it up in my own time, just when my career as a gamer was kicking off. There are some fans that are way **too** passionate.” She moved in towards McCree, ducking as he threw another punch. He wrinkled his nose, blocking more attacks from Hana.

“Yuck. I’ll take people tryin’ ta kill me over that any day.”

“Yuck is right. Though I only had to dropkick one or two guys over the years, thankfully.”

“You can do a dropkick?” McCree asked, almost impressed.

“Adrenaline is one hell of a drug.” D.va grinned,

He laughed. The two continued trading attacks, though neither sustained any injuries save a couple bruises in the next ten minutes.

“Alright, break time,” McCree called, much to Hana’s relief.  
“I could drink a lake,” she admitted. “Water, gimme now.”

Jesse chuckled and obliged, tossing her a water bottle, which she caught with some struggle as she sat back down next to him.

There was a comfortable silence between the two of them for a few minutes as they sipped water. McCree had lit another cigar when Hana finally spoke up.

“Are you… doing alright?”

Jesse seemed surprised. “Don’t give yourself too much credit, I ain’t bruised up that badly.” He joked, nudging her with his elbow.

“That’s not what I mean,” D.va sighed. McCree winced.

“Ya mean Lena? Eh… I could be better. How’s the public takin’ this all?”

“I’ve been avoiding checking. Though Lú mentioned he and Efi were going to go through all the blogs and such to figure out what’s what. Lúcio also said he was setting up a poll on how many people are upset with Tracer before we try to intervene.”

McCree hummed, though anxiety was seeping through his voice. “Well, Overwatch should be able to avoid legal repercussions by saying that everything went downhill before we were officially cobbled back together. I think she ran off right after the fact, but there was a whole mess of events leadin’ up to that.”

“But what about their reputation? What do you think will happen to that?”

Jesse frowned. “That’s a whole different can ‘o worms. Even if Overwatch can get away from prosecution for Lena’s actions, the public ain’t gonna be too happy.” He blew a puff of smoke into the air.

“That’s so stupid!” Hana growled, squeezing the water bottle in her hand. “The whole world saw the video Talon sent out. They should know it’s not her fault.”

“Ain’t ever that easy,” McCree turned to Hana, knowing she knew exactly what he meant.

“Yeah… That video wasn’t as real for the public, I guess. Media makes people believe that things like torture and the likes can be overcome with sheer force of will and the magic of friendship and whatnot.”

“Romanticised, you mean.” The cowboy pulled the cigar out of his mouth and absently watched the ember on the end.

“I guess they will blame Lena for not ‘toughing it out and pushing through.’ It’s a teeny tiny lens they’re looking through. A three-minute video capturing a full five days…” Hana groaned, rubbing her temples. “This is a headache and a half.”

McCree hesitated. “I know this prolly isn’t the best time, but can I ask a favour?”

“What’s up?” she responded robotically, not looking up.

“Can you and hopefully the DJ try to help with Overwatch’s reputation? Lena’s too. When we get her back, her image with the public will be slightly more than bruised without some outside help.”

D.va looked up and cracked her knuckles out of habit. “You know, I think I could. I’m sure Lúcio will want to help too. I think a couple short streams with a PSA at the end could work.” She turned to her sparring partner. “It won’t be able to fix every problem, though. Dissenters will still be everywhere. Lú and I only have our niche audience…”

“Of several million,” McCree interrupted.

“-Whereas the rest of the world might not be so quick to forgive.”

“I think Overwatch’ll take what it can get,” McCree said with a chuckle.

Athena’s voice echoed overhead. “Agent Song, Dr Ziegler is requesting to speak with you.”

McCree huffed. “Whelp, so much for that plan. What’s the doc want ya for?”

“Maybe my arm? I don’t know. I feel like I just got called into the principal’s office, though.”

 “Things like that are what make me glad I never went to school.”

…

“Dr Zielger? You wanted to see me?” Hana asked as she stepped into the angel’s pristine lab. The doctor, who had been checking her stock of medicinal supplies, gave Hana a warm smile.

“Hello, Hana. Come on in, please, take a seat,” she said, gesturing for Hana to follow her to a different room. She obliged and was led into the polar opposite of the modern and technologically advanced lab. It seemed like a room you might find in an urban house, with comfortable armchairs, painted walls, even curtains and the likes.

“Take a seat.” Hana eased her way into the criminally comfortable seat, opposite to the doctor in a similar chair.

“I feel like I’m in trouble,” D.va chuckled nervously, shifting in the seat, trying to find a good position to sit in with the bulky accelerator pinned to her back.

“No, of course not. I just need to speak with you.”

“Abouuuut?”

“Your condition.”

Hana sighed. “I had kinda hoped you forgot wanting to talk about it.”

Mercy shook her head. “I was hoping you would seek me out on your own. But regardless, we need to talk about it. You have some grievances with using your newfound gifts?”

D.va focused her gaze on the curtains in the room, watching them sway ever so slightly. “Kinda… It’s just… I’m not very good at using these abilities yet, which isn’t a problem in and of itself, but you guys want me to keep using them to counter Slipstream, right?”

“Does that plan not sit well with you?”

“Not really. I’ve been able to blink for less than a week. Slipstream has had her powers for eight years. I feel like I’d be better off fighting in my mech. Efi has been working on a better firewall for Sombra’s hacks, so I’m sure I could be useful like that.”

Mercy seemed to consider the idea. “What about your chronal accelerator?”

Hana shifted in her seat, running her finger along the ring of the device. “What about it?”

“Would it fit in your mech comfortably?”

“I… Probably. I could set it on top of me or something like that.”

“But how would that affect your efficiency? If you needed to eject from your mech, then you would also have to grab the harness. Not to mention, the chronal accelerator can interfere with technology when activated. Things like communicators are easy enough to make more durable, but a piece of technology as complex as your mech would be much more difficult. If something were to happen and you panicked, you could activate one of your abilities accidentally, and cause your mech to malfunction.” Mercy explained, crossing her legs.

D.va frowned. “So, you’re saying I can never use my mech again.”

“I am not saying that in any way. I’m saying that with your condition comes strengths and weaknesses, and deciding what to do about them something you must consider carefully.” She paused. “That is, if efficacy is the only thing you value.”

“What do you mean?” Hana asked, flexing her fingers to release some of her tension.

“You mentioned a dislike for ‘being an off-brand Tracer,’ if memory serves. Please, go into more detail about that if you don’t mind.”

“It’s not something to worry about. Efficiency should be the most important thing here. I’ll do whatever you think will make me the most useful,” she quickly tried to derail the subject.

“Hana, please. Overwatch does value that, but we also care immensely about the needs, both physical and mental, of everyone member. If something is troubling you, please, allow me to try and ease your mind.”

The gamer hesitated. “Nothing I say leaves this room, right?”

Mercy nodded. “Nothing you say will leave this room without your explicit permission.”

“It’s just… I feel like I’m almost impersonating Tracer. Like I’m trying to pretend she never left. I feel like I’m doing a disservice her name.”

“Why is that?” Angela pressed.

“Because I’m not Tracer. I haven’t gone through what she has, had the experiences she had, things like that.”

“And why is that an issue?”

D.va paused to gather her thoughts. “I think… it’s kind of hard to explain, but Tracer is someone Lena Oxton made. Tracer is the mask Lena puts on to show the world her best self.”

“You mean like a second personality?” Mercy asked, letting Hana explain with her hands folded over her lap.

“No, not like that. Tracer is more of… an idealised Lena, I think, if she does things similarly to how I do. My IGN, D.va, is kinda like someone I made, at first, for when I played online. She’s almost an exaggeration. I amp up the sarcasm, joke and laugh a lot more, and also act borderline overconfident.”

“Why do you do that?”

“When you’ve got a lot of people listening and talking with you, usually they don’t want to see the ugly side of you. So, you hide it. As time went on and I joined MEKA, I began to rely on D.va more than Hana, as it were. Not just for myself, but for everyone around me. The squads don’t want to see a terrified little girl quaking in her boots. They want a champion that isn’t scared of anything.” D.va took a deep breath, not realising how fast she was beginning to talk. “D.va covers up _my_ insecurities and weaknesses. She’s an extension of _me_ and me alone. If some random person I’d barely ever spoken to suddenly came up and suddenly stole my image and acted like me, it wouldn’t be real. They’d be doing just that. Acting. It wouldn’t be them. It would be them pretending to be me. D.va is made in my image, just like Tracer is an extension of Lena. I don’t understand any of what Lena went through, so I have no right to go in and pretend to be her mask.” Hana practically gasped for air as the doctor took her cascade of words into consideration. “Did that make any sense at all…?”

The doctor stared at the ceiling pensively for several prolonged seconds. “I think the fact that you are aware of this fact, in and of itself, proves that you aren’t ‘stealing her image,’ or anything like it. And still, correct me if I’m wrong, but I believe you have more insight on her struggles than anyone else in the world, do you not?” She gestured to the spinning pink gear on Hana’s chest.

D.va shook her head. “No, not at all. Same condition, sure, but completely different circumstances, you know? I mean, at the end of the day, I chose to take that trinket off my neck and give myself chronal disassociation. Maybe I didn’t get the results I was hoping for with it all, but I chose this, and that’s that. I have nobody to be mad at.”

The doctor seemed to know what Hana meant as she gestured for her to continue.

“But Lena was in a freak accident and developed a condition nobody knew anything about. That’s way different.”

“You feel as though Lena was dealt a worse punishment, then? That she suffered more with her past?” Mercy asked curiously.

Hana shrugged. “That’s up to you. Doesn’t change the fact that I have no right to try and be a character created by and for somebody else.”

“I see. If that’s how you feel, then would you like me to ask Miss Oladele to modify your mech to be more fitting for your harness? If you really feel uncomfortable with using your new gifts, then by no means am I going to force you to do so.”

“I just feel bad,” Hana admitted. “You guys put all this work towards making me this OP new piece of gear and I don’t wanna use it.”

“Hana, listen to me.” Mercy’s stern yet caring voice was impossible to not heed. “That harness’ sole purpose is to keep you anchored. If you wish to use it to fight, that is your choice and yours alone to make. If anyone asks you to use your power, you always, let me repeat, **always** have the right to decline. And if they have a problem with that, you can tell them to take it up with me. Have I made myself clear?”

Hana blinked in surprise, nodding before she even realized it. She didn’t say anything for several seconds. She took a deep breath.

“Emotions aside, tell me honestly. Do you think I’d be more useful using this harness to fight Slipstream?”

Mercy thought for a moment, choosing her words carefully. “Most likely, at least until we find a safe way to allow you to wear the harness in your mech.”

Hana sighed. “I’ll just use it until we get Slipstream back, then.”

Mercy shook her head. “Do not feel pressured to use powers that make you uncomfortable just because you’d be ‘better.’ I’m sure Efi could begin modifications on your mech soon.”

“But I know how much everybody wants to save Lena. If I can help get her back, I will.”

“I cannot force you to go either way. It is your decision to make. I think the fact that you are aware of the resemblance the Tracer speaks volumes, and as long as you remain conscientious about it, then you can take the steps you feel necessary to avoid leaving that impression.”

“Any suggestions on how I could do that?” D.va leaned backwards, letting her back arch over the harness awkwardly.

Mercy hummed for a moment, considering the question. “That is not an easy question for me to answer. Tracer and D.va can appear very similar from the viewpoint of a bystander. From the banter to the need to simply help others. And there is no need to change anything about how you act, save perhaps highlighting that you wish to save Lena, and that is your reason for using your powers.”

Hana put her hands behind her head. “Guess that is the best way of doing things, huh? I guess I’ll try that. I think I can handle using blinks until we capture Slipstream.”

…

“Winston, Miss Oladele is at the door to your lab.” Athena’s monotone voice startled Winston as he had been distracting himself with HoloVid files that needed sorting out about each of the members of Overwatch.

“Uh, let her in,” the gorilla stuttered as the door slid open and the child greeted him in young, melodious voice.

“Hello Dr Winston!”

“Ah, Efi! Hello! I- I’m sorry about the mess, I, uh, have been a bit preoccupied lately.” He scrambled to get some of his lab desk sorted out by the time the girl reached the top of the staircase to his office room overlooking the cliff-side.

“Oh, don’t worry about it. My lab was way worse before Orisa volunteered to clean it.” She gave Winston a toothy grin. “Anyway, I checked around and got watcha wanted from me.”

Winston took a deep breath. “How bad is it?”

Efi hummed, jumping up to sit on Winston’s desk as she kicked her legs while he watched nervously. “The public’s reactions are… mixed. A bit better than I was expecting, really, but still mostly against Tracer… but again, not totally against her so there’s that!” she grasped at straws, trying to take a positive spin on things.

“I… I see. Not much sympathy then?”

“Umm… it’s kinda weird. The news outlets and such are all painting it to be more negative, since the video is too graphic, so it’s just kinda going like ‘Tracer from Overwatch joins Talon shortly after video released by Talon’ without explaining the Talon video, so Tracer comes out looking worse for it and it’s just super stupid,” she rambled, trying to get her thoughts together. She rubbed her head in frustration when she realised how jumbled her words were.

“Slow down, you don’t need to tell me in one breath,” Winston offered gently.

Efi sucked in a deep breath of air, thinking as she exhaled and repeated what she said. “So… the news just mentions the video of Reaper hurting Tracer in passing, you know? Since they can’t show it. Because of that, everyone that watches the news is mostly seeing the evil Tracer. That video from ages ago is closer to a blurry memory. So, all the older people, the ones that rely on the news, are mad at Tracer since they’re just seeing her be bad. But most of the online forums and chats say she’s the victim, and that she didn’t have a choice, since they can be more open about the video, linking it to each other and stuff and using it in arguments. Supposedly, it’s a pretty hot topic right now.”

“I- I see. Thank you, Efi,” Winston stammered, turning back to his computer as he idly checked his e-mail.

The girl paused. “Um… Winston? I’m just wondering… why did you have me look into all this? I mean, no offense or anything! I’m happy to do whatever you need, but it just seems like you could have had Athena do that for you too… Are you… doing okay?”

Winston nodded in a hurry. “Ah, yeah! Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine. As for why I didn’t want Athena to research it… I- uh… figured having you look at it would be better since you could ask Lúcio and his fans and things like that!”

Efi crossed her arms. “You’re a bad liar,” she said to Winston, frowning.

He sighed, laughing humorously. “Heh… So, I’ve been told. But really, I didn’t want to have to read up on all this before I had the politics of this sorted out. We needed a game plan.”

“A game plan? For what? Beating Slipstream?”

“More like a game plan for beating the UK,” Efi blinked in confusion, waiting for Winston to explain. “Tracer is an iconic member of Overwatch, and she was sighted in Numbani when we had to go save Lúcio. So naturally, everybody knows she was with us when Overwatch was properly legalised.”

“Oh… so Overwatch is going to get in trouble for what Slipstream did?”

“That’s what I’m trying to avoid. We can avoid the liability by saying she was sabotaged, but without any evidence, it’ll be difficult to prove.”

“Oh…” Efi shrunk back. “That’s… not good. Maybe if we capture Slipstream, we can look at her harness and use that to prove Talon hacked her harness before Overwatch was officially back together.”

Winston nodded. “That’s my plan.” He sighed. “I just hope we manage to get her back soon.”

“You hate seeing her evil, huh?” Efi slid next to him, sitting on the edge of the tire seat Winston had flopped into.  

“Of course, I do. I’ve known her for years. We’ve both gone through a lot together. She was there to comfort me when I first arrived at Overwatch. She was the shoulder I could cry on in my grief. Later, I was able to make the chronal accelerator for her. Since then, we’ve had each other backs. I can’t help but feel responsible for all this,” he admitted, straining to keep his voice level.

“But you didn’t know that Talon tampered with the harness!” Efi tried to comfort, looking up at the gentle giant with her big brown eyes. Winston shook his head.

“Honestly, I should have been able to tell. I know Lena well enough to know when somethings wrong. There’s no way all that strange behaviour was **just** from the stress of having had her harness stolen.” Winston took a deep breath as Efi watched him force himself to stay calm.

“But we can get her back! I heard Dr Ziegler mention we’ll be bringing some of Captain Amari’s sleep darts. D.va is practicing with her powers! We can totally beat Slipstream!”

Much to Efi’s surprise, Winston nodded, his voice soft. “I know. I’m counting on it. I have to. I need to help her as soon as possible. Before she can do anything else she’ll regret when we fix her emotions.”

…

Sombra flipped off of Athena’s cameras, scribbling down some useless notes about a few of the agents’ activities that Reaper would have no use for. Winston was organizing files. Song and McCree were training. Vaswani was in her lab and dos Santos was on his computer. Ziegler was doing paperwork. It was a little barebones but Sombra would just say Athena’s cameras were useless in accessing this crap. Hopefully, that’d pacify Reaper. She’d mark down a few more specific details about Efi and how she was trying to plan a way to help public opinion, just in case.

She hummed, quickly flipping over to some official health and concerns files on Slipstream, reading the annoyingly long laundry list of health and safety concerns. There were normal things such as “requires food,” and “allowed kitchen access” since some members, mostly Omnics, didn’t require sustenance. Then there were more specific items such as “lacks some emotions,” “on heavy medication due to health issues,” and “tendency to be unintentionally self-destructive” littering the list that was usually only used by the doctors and scientists. Sombra made a point to regularly check and save files onto a thumb stick along any major files she felt were important, just in case.

The more specific items on Slipstream’s document, such as the ones mentioning her weaker heart, list of injuries, list of cybernetic modification, and medication she was on also were saved. Sombra made a point to have a few copies of this file on her person at all times.

Just in case.

She needed to stay on her toes. Reaper was growing more suspicious of her behaviour. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could outsmart him. With all the little rules she’s been breaking, even ones she’s broken plenty of times in the past, he might be beginning to doubt her loyalty. Even though Sombra wasn’t totally convinced he ever totally believed in her loyalty. He wasn’t dumb, much to her dismay. That would make things way too easy.

Sombra perked her head up from her blindingly bright monitors at the distinct sound of Slipstream blinking outside her room. There was the muffled hum of her door across the hall. She assumed Slipstream went into her room.

Now that she thought about it, Sombra hadn’t seen much of Slipstream that day. When she checked the agent’s room in the morning, she had been gone, leading Sombra to assume she finally went and got herself some food.

Maybe she should check on Slipstream.

Sombra stood up, groaning as she straightened her back after being hunched in front of her computer for hours. Quickly throwing on her cloak, Sombra left her room and knocked on Lena’s door.

“Lena? Are you in there?”

“Uh… um... yeah I am come on in!”

Alarms immediately rang in Sombra’s head. Lena’s voice wasn’t the usual, boundless cheer it had been since she joined. But it wasn’t upset either.

When she walked in, instead of the usual scene of Slipstream being in-uniform and ready for action, Lena was in a grey T-shirt with the Talon logo and a pair of sweats. Her chronal accelerator had been haphazardly stuck to the wall mount, crooked but still spreading its stabilizing throughout her room. She was pacing, her shining pink eyes focused on the ground in front of her. She had her hands clasped firmly together as she rubbed her thumbs together restlessly. Her brow was wrinkled in something akin to frustration, an emotion Sombra thought Slipstream was incapable of.

“D-do you nee-need something?” Lena seemed to pause for a moment, turning to Sombra as though expecting orders. She was stammering, not like she was emotional, but rather she was too jumpy to properly form the words she needed to.

“I was just wondering where you’ve been all day. And why are you acting like that? Is the sympathiser working? You look frustrated.”

Slipstream hesitated, her hands twitching. “Uh Reaper was no-not happy with me for focusing more on Hana than the civi-civilian on the last mission.”

Sombra could already see where this was going. She let herself into the room proper and sat down on Slipstream’s bed. “Did he turn off the sympathiser as punishment? But that can’t be right… your eyes are still glowing.”

Lena resumed her pacing. “He-he said he tu-turned it down as punish-punishment. To remind me to focus on my job over fu-fun so he turned it down, it’s just down. Like two or was it three percent do-down? I don’t know but it’s supposed to be just enough to ma-make me uncomfortable,” she rambled. Her words were stressed and enunciated, like it took concentration to form them.

Sombra grit her teeth, taking a deep breath. “How long will it be down?”

“Dunno. Dunno. He ca-called me down this morning. He ta-ta-talked to me and said this was a less-lesson so I could easier remember to fo-follow orders. Then I had to go to see Moira for a check-up on the Sympathiser and my leg, then she told me I was overdue for a visit to the doctors since I’m apparently on a lo-lot of medicine, which I didn’t know actu-actually. I kinda just thought the medicine was because my trea-trea-treatment with the bo-bo-boss might’ve been a problem but apparently I’m going to need help for a long time, so anyway I went to the doctors and they ran their tests and it was still o-o-off when they were done injecting my meds and they told me I could go back to my room so I did and here I am.”

Her voice stuttered and shook, and anyone listening to her would think she had a speech impediment. Still, even with the long and unfocused rambling, she still seemed in control of her emotions, even if she was now filled with restlessness.

The hacker frowned. So, her eyes were still lit because the sympathiser had barely been turned down. Perhaps they were slightly dimmer, but two or three increments wasn’t nearly enough to be noticeable. If it was down as little of an amount as Slipstream said, then Sombra could only wonder what Lena would be like if she turned it off.

“So… do you feel pain right now?” Sombra asked vaguely, trying to get a grasp on the girl’s emotional state as she leaned forward in the bed, putting her hands in her lap.

“I don’t kn-know, I can’t te-tell. But it’s ha-hard to think right and everything st-startles me and I just want to curl up in a ba-ball and wait for it to go back on why can’t it go back on Sombra please can you make the sympathiser go back on?”

Sombra wished for nothing more but to oblige for the pleading girl and to turn the sympathiser back on. Sombra wished for nothing more, in that moment, than to help Lena in any way possible. But she wasn’t sure what she could do. If she turned the sympathiser on, that could make Reaper even more suspicious.

“Sorry, Slipstream. But I can’t turn it down without Reaper’s permission.”

Instead of pressing the point, Lena’s mind fixated on a different part of the sentence. “Slipstream… Slipstream… tha-that’s me… I’m Sli-slipstream…” she muttered to herself, her pacing speeding up. “I’m her. I’m her. I’m her… but… but…”

Sombra hesitated. “But what?”

Lena paused, realization dawning on her features. Not horror, not glee, not even something in the middle. More like everything just clicked and she didn’t know how to process the information.

“I don’t want to be Slipstream. But I do. How… How is that possible? I don’t… I don’t understand. I don’t understand… I don’t understand.”

The hacker jumped to her feet, rushing over to Lena before she could fall, like she simply forgot to support herself with her legs. Quickly, Sombra eased the girl onto the bed, where she ran her fingers through her messy and spiky hair. Her brow was knit in sheer confusion and inability to understand.

“I don’t like feeling this way and I want it to stop and I want to go back to Slipstream but wanting to go back to Slipstream makes me feel more weird and bad and I don’t understand why I feel like this!”

It was peculiar seeing Slipstream so conflicted. She was caught having a mere taste of a complete set of human emotions, but that seemed to be causing confliction with the almost foreign sensation of mental discomfort. She didn’t know how to process the tiniest bit of pain and it left her utterly confused.

“ _Amiga,_ you know about Tracer. You know what kind of a person she was. I think you’re almost feeling bad for not being Tracer.”

“But I’m Slipstream… I’m Slipstream. I want to be Slipstream since it’s easier and more fun but I want to be Tracer but I don’t and I can’t but I want and don’t want and…” Sombra cut Lena off from her looping thoughts.

“Shh, listen. Before this, your mind operated solely on orders and fun. You were all but a purely logical being. Having this new taste of emotion is messing with your head. It’ll pass, don’t overthink it.”

Much to Sombra’s surprise, Slipstream seemed to take her advice, taking a deep breath. “I don’t… I can’t…” She paused, trying to match her thoughts with words. “I can’t go back to being Tracer if I wanted to, huh?” her voice was quiet. Not sad, but perhaps tired. “As Slipstream, I think I can always go back to Overwatch if I felt like it. They can kill me if they want. It’s fine. But this little bit of Tracer is saying… I’m trapped.”

“Why do you think that?” Sombra asked carefully, setting her hand on Lena’s prosthetic knee in a vain attempt to calm her further.

“I don’t… want this… this discomfort? To get worse. But if I make the boss mad, it will… He’ll make me take my emotions back. But I don’t… don’t want them back. I’ll do anything he says anyway, but even more if it means not having them.”

“So, you feel like you’re being blackmailed?” Sombra chewed her lip, fighting to keep her face neutral.

“I mean I don’t want to feel this way and if he turns it down more… I’ve… I’ve done things that… aren’t good, right? Things that would make the normal ‘me’ really upset?” She sounded unsure, like she was having a hard time placing her recent actions as bad. Trying to kill civilians, actually killing that one man back in Numbani… all actions that Overwatch’s champion of justice, Lena “Tracer” Oxton would loathe.

“Probably… I don’t think you’d be happy with yourself as you are now. So… what are you going to do?”

Lena didn’t even hesitate. “I can’t leave… I’m trapped. I have to stay. Everything I’ve done has trapped me.

Everything’s fine when I’m Slipstream. I’ve got nothing to regret as Slipstream. I just want this uncomfortable _nagging_ in my gut to go _away!_ Hopefully the boss will… let me go back…”

“Didn’t you say you felt bad going back though?”

“Yeah… but I can’t feel bad once I’m back to normal. I just want to feel fine. I’ve got no reason to go back to Tracer. I doubt I could if I wanted to.” Slipstream seemed calmer than before, like the promise of the sympathiser being turned back on didn’t leave her with a choice, but she also had no reason to fight back against the choice.

Sombra wondered if there was a way to get Tracer to fight back against Reaper. Right now, she was picking the easy way out. To not face more pain. Sombra would’ve thought her weak.

If she wasn’t doing the same thing herself.

Olivia would have encouraged her to fight back.

Olivia wouldn’t have let such a good person be twisted like this.

Olivia would have told Lena about the Chronal Bombs that Reaper forbade her to mention.

Olivia would have told her all these things.

But that would paint a target on her back and send Reaper after her. So instead of facing death, Sombra exchanged goodbyes with Lena, who lied down on her bed, exhausted. Sombra went back to her own room and pawned the job off to Overwatch.

…

Chat Channel Created

.

Sombra entered the channel

.

Lúcio was added to the channel

.

[Lúcio]: Uh.

[Lúcio]: The hell?

[Sombra]: hiya lu! i promised id keep in touch so here we are o/

[Lúcio]: Sombra? How in the world did you get my chat ID?

[Sombra]: gee. i wonder. how could the worlds best hacker find the chat id of a famous celebritys chat id on a site that everyone uses ^_^

[Lúcio]: … So, what do you want?

[Sombra]: more like what do you want given i am chock full of info about the next big mission

[Sombra]: its a fun one

[Sombra]: MEKA themed this time ‘round

[Lúcio]: Hang on, are you sure a chat client in the public domain is the best place to talk about this?

[Sombra]: tsk tsk, what do you think i am? an amateur? Naw i secured this server so its just you and me friend

[Sombra]: also this channel is gonna delete when were done

[Sombra]: but getting back on track, i have a file you might want to read

[Lúcio]: Alright, send it over.

[Sombra]: mk one sec

.

Sombra sent superbigbadvillainplan.txt

.

[Lúcio]: … The punctuation in this is horrendous. You wrote this yourself, huh?

[Sombra]: the actual files were long and annoyingly wordy and i didnt want to wait on you any longer than i gotta since im dead if reaper finds me doing this

[Lúcio]: Alright, whatever. Give me two minutes to read this.

.

.

.

[Lúcio]: Oh damn.

[Sombra]: finally done, huh?

[Sombra]: kinda slow reading, i timed ya and you went thirty seconds over two mins but anyway yep theres the info

[Lúcio]: So, lemme get this straight

[Sombra]: i mean im sure you already got the gist but sure whatever -_-

[Lúcio]: In a few days, Talon is going to rob MEKA while the pilots are on a mission

[Sombra]: yup

[Lúcio]: and MEKA knows you’re coming

[Sombra]: sí

[Lúcio]: But they’re not doing anything about it? Why?

[Sombra]: those kiddos are fighting a giant friggen robot that can grow and evolve to counter them

[Sombra]: theyll take all the free tech they can get from us to help and in exchange theyre letting us get what we want :D

[Lúcio]: Which is?

[Sombra]: one of the mechs recovered from dead pilots

[Sombra]: a little morbid i know but the boss demands it so XD

[Lúcio]: …and what do you plan on doing with this technology?

[Sombra]: oh come on im sure you can figure it out now since so far, weve taken

[Sombra]: or15 parts from numbani, tech theyre famous for

[Sombra]: the junkers shitty bombs, which are suuuuper sketchy

[Sombra]: we had that raptora suit from amaris kid for a while

[Sombra]: we wanted null sector tech and we also hit up a couple other spots can ya see where im going with this now???

[Lúcio]: Wait.

[Lúcio]: You guys killed Mondatta.

[Sombra]: uhhh yeaaaaahh???? isnt that common knowledge ^_-

[Lúcio]: Which has human and Omnic tensions higher than ever.

[Sombra]: thank widowmaker for that job well done :/

.

[Sombra]: …

[Sombra]: hellooooo???

[Sombra]: ok i dont have all day can you have your epiphany already pls

.

[Sombra]: -_- getting kinda bored over here

.

[Lúcio]: Holy shit.

[Sombra]: finally!! took ya long enough

[Sombra]: so did ya finally unveil talon’s grandmaster plan

[Sombra]: woulda kept it hidden longer and left ya spinning your wheels but eh i got bored of waiting

[Lúcio]: You guys plan on starting another huge war.

[Sombra]: talon would prefer one of the “world” variety

[Sombra]: hence the thirty billion kinds of super outdated tech

[Lúcio]: But why?! Why would you support that?

[Sombra]: never said i did but you know i guess I'm guilty by association

[Lúcio]: Oh God, this is super bad…

[Sombra]: ok as much as i would love to read you freaking out ive got places to be so if we could get back on topic

[Lúcio]: Okay. Then Overwatch will have to go there.

[Sombra]: ah ah ah remember the deal? id rather not get caught red handed

[Lúcio]: Oh, good point. There’s not really a reason for Overwatch to be there without it being blatantly obvious that info was leaked

[Sombra]: eyup and that means no more help from your new friend

[Lúcio]: …

[Lúcio]: How about this then?

[Lúcio]: Overwatch may not be able to go there, but Hana is still associated with MEKA. We can plan a livestream there a couple days in advance so it’s obvious to Talon we’re already there.

[Sombra]: ahhh i gotcha you wanna make it look like our dates just happen to line up and since its announced in advance

[Lúcio]: Yeah, Talon will know the “reason” we’re there and make a mole on their side less obvious.

[Sombra]: hmm still sketchy but it could work although if overwatch were to show up in its entirety after the fact reaper would totally catch me

[Lúcio]: Then we’ll just have to send people for the stream and hope they’re enough. Me, Hana, Orisa, and Genji have all shown up on livestream. We could say we’re doing a huge MEKA and Overwatch fundraiser or something.

[Sombra]: uhhhh not to doubt overwatch even though that’s totally what im doing but do you think a newbie robot, a defective tracer knockoff, and a dj, even with the sparrow robot, can stand up against us even if i throw the match

[Lúcio]: We’ve done crazier. Do you have a better idea?

[Sombra]: … point

[Sombra]: well whatever its your funeral if you all get killed but yeah that plan should work

[Sombra]: but remember imma have to do my job and take that tech if you dont give me an excuse not to

[Lúcio]: Alright. And someone over here will probably kill you if you stab us in the back.

[Sombra]: please. ive had a lot of people want to kill me

[Sombra]: youll need to get in line

[Sombra]: other than that, its a

[Sombra]: anyways SS prolly forgot to eat again so imma go make her some food so byyyyyeee

 [Lúcio]: Hang on. So just to confirm, you plan on using the tech you recover to frame other nations.

[Sombra]: uhhhh yeah do i really gotta spell it out for you

[Lúcio]: No, I’ve think I got the picture. But you didn’t mention one other organizations tech

[Lúcio]: So please tell me.

[Lúcio]: What do you plan on doing with Tracer’s technology? The technology **you’ve** been tampering with.

.

[Lúcio]: I know you’re still there.

.

[Lúcio]: So, answer my question.

.

.

[Lúcio]: Sombra. What are you doing with the chronal accelerator?

[Sombra]: I gotta go.

[Lúcio]: Bullshit. Answer my question.

[Sombra]: Sorry boss is coming. Talk to ya later. This chat log is going to delete.

[Lúcio]: Why is it I get the feeling you’re dodging my question?

.

Sombra disconnected from the channel.

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[Lúcio]: Hey! Wait!

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Lúcio lost connection to channel.

.

.

.

Channel deleted.

 


	32. MEKA

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: PLEASE READ, THIS IS VERY IMPORTANT.  
> Hello, everybody. Pleasure to be back. My apologies for taking so long to upload. School has been keeping me busy, so I've not been able to work much on this fic. Despite that, please note that I am not going to discontinue this story. And even if I decided to do so, I would be sure to tell you guys. So, if I fall silent for long periods of time, that is not me giving up on this fic.  
> HOWEVER.  
> I do have something else important to address here. There are several things I didn't do well early in the story. I openly admit this. I have learned a lot since then. But the most grievous mistake I have made in this story is something that I simply cannot ignore.  
> SO PLEASE NOTE:  
> I am officially retconning any implications that torture can be used to successfully interrogate, convert, or "break someone's will." This is blatantly untrue, as recent research has led me to discover. Given the gravity of the subject as well, it is not something I can leave unaddressed. I have plans in the future to go back and fix the dialogue with this issue, but I don't have time to now so this will have to do for now.  
> Now, this does not change a lot in the story, since the torture was done for reasons other than converting Tracer, and the whole reason she gave in was blackmail, and she would have fled at the first chance she got if it weren't for the sympathiser. I will be addressing this in the story in the future, but for now I wanted to point it out here, because I feel it is important to accurately depict serious topics like this.   
> But if you have any questions about the canon, about how the chapter is coming along, or just want to talk about Tracer or something, my Discord tag is Raven6229#9489. You guys are free to send me friend requests if you need to talk.  
> Anyway, without further ado, a chapter that is two months in the making! This one is an important one, so buckle up.

Hana didn’t say anything as Mercy landed the ship in MEKA’s hangar. She explained to her superiors why they were there with tight lips and a tense stance. She ignored their encouragement to come back another time. She had Orisa carry her PC equipment to the live-steaming room, where her squad-mates already had his equipment set up for Genji, Efi, and Lúcio to use with the promise of the DJs signature afterwards. Efi methodically set up all their streaming equipment just in case Sombra had been lying. D.va brushed away Lúcio’s hand on her shoulder when he asked if she was okay. Soon, all their stuff was set up, and the stream was planned to start when her squad got back from their next mission. Hana fell onto the grey couch, staring at the wall littered in posters ahead of her, deep in thought, only for the doctor’s shocked voice to blare over the communicator in her ear.

“Jesse! Why are you here? How are you here?”

Lúcio paused his fiddling with some of his settings on the compute, tapping his earpiece to talk. “McCree? He’s there? How did he get on the ship without you noticing?”

Genji chuckled. “He had me help him hide in the locker.”

Mercy muttered something under her breath as Efi began laughing. “You do realize we’re supposed to make this look like a coincidence, right? If you’re here, it’ll be all-too-obvious that it’s not. We could lose a valuable source of information that way.”

McCree’s voice was hard to hear through Angela’s mic. “Sorry, Angel, but I ain’t gonna just wait back at base with my thumb up my ass.”

There was a pause, then a sigh of defeat from Mercy. “You are impossible.”

“In other news, water wet,” Genji added light-heartedly, setting up an old-fashioned Dance Dance Revolution dancepad to the big screen.

Efi’s bubbly laughter finally quieted down as she finally got the webcams working, after which she rolled her chair back, tucking her legs and making it spin while she spoke. “Alrighty, webcams are a-go! Your PC is all set up, D.va! Everything should be good! How’s your chronal accelerator?”

Hana tuned back into the conversation, stuttering as she suddenly sat up straight, much more aware of the reassuring hum of the pink light on her chest. “Oh, uh… yeah. Accelerator should be fine. At least, it feels fine.”

Lúcio shot her another worried glance. “Hana… I know this sucks, but come on, we’ll get this sorted out soon. If Talon does attack, we’ll have Winston bring it up with MEKA and figure out why exactly they want what they do.”

“I know, don’t worry about it.” Hana waved him off, standing up and stretching, since sitting in the position she had been with her accelerator left her a bit sore. “I just don’t like the idea of MEKA doing this, you know?”

Efi stopped spinning her chair, frowning but not knowing what to say.

Orisa, much to everyone’s surprise, was the one to speak up. She gently trotted over to Hana, with her metal hands folded in a way that made her appear gentle despite the fact that she towered over the teenager. “I imagine discovering your employers were making such an underhanded deal with criminals would come as quite a shock, perhaps akin to if Efi did something like that for me. However, I don’t think everyone in MEKA was okay with that. It seems far too drastic of a measure to take for a unanimous agreement. And when you brought it up with your squad, none of them knew of the deal with Talon. Not to mention, when your friend tried to look through your bosses’ emails, the ones she could access were void of anything suspicious. The decision was most likely made by one or two specific people with the most authority, meaning the majority of MEKA can likely still be considered blameless in this ordeal.”

Hana paused, staring up at Orisa’s rectangular pupils, considering her words. Finally, she sighed and took a deep breath. “Yeah… okay. Guess I kinda need to stop moping, huh? We gotta get serious about this!” she reassured herself more than anyone else, forcing some cheer back into her voice, hoping the emotion would follow.

“I probably should be going back to the ship, huh? Efi asked nervously, fidgeting in the chair.

“Going back before Talon arrives would be smart, yes,” Genji said in an almost joking tone. But before Efi could leave, he grabbed the back of her chair and spun it with more force than she ever could. Efi was caught in a fit of laughter as she tried to protest and get Genji to stop the chair as she spun to no avail, only earning another spin from the cyborg before he finally slowed the chair down for her. Efi wobbled out, giggling.

“I will escort you back to the ship,” Orisa said as she helped Efi steady herself, the two heading out for the open hangar.

As Efi’s giggles faded into the twisting corridors of MEKA, Lúcio turned to Hana. “Hey, you got power in your harness?”

Hana snorted. “Efi just asked about it. Yeah, Lú, I’m fine, don’t worry. The harness battery isn’t **that** bad. You saw me charging it on the ship.”

“D.va’s stream is scheduled to go live in a couple hours after the pilots get back in one. If Talon is going to attack, it will be soon.” Mercy interrupted, her tone conveying more orders than words ever could. Hana brushed her hand over her holster. She saw Lúcio check his sonic amplifier for the fifth time since they started setting up. Genji remained perfectly serene from his spot on the sofa in a meditation pose.

A few minutes later, Lúcio let out a small gasp and ushered Hana over to him, where he was holding his phone with his chat service open. There was a fresh barrage of messages coming in.

Chat Channel Created

 

.

 

Sombra entered the channel

 

.

 

Lúcio was added to the channel

 

[Sombra]: hey howdy its Sombra-y

[Sombra]: hope you guys are ready because reaper certainly is. hes practically licking the lips we cant see with excitement im sure. Its been a bit too long since the poor fella killed

[Sombra]: Weve got SS, the boss, the other boss that punches stuff, and the next hokage. spider didnt come this time.

[Lúcio]: The next Hokage? What? Can’t you just say their actual names?

[Sombra]: aww did i not even get a little chuckle out of you? i thought the hokage thing was pretty clever. im sure sparrow would agree with me if he didnt hate me

[Lúcio]: Alright, he seems to know who you’re talking about, given the _bitter chuckle_. Does Talon have anyone that that DOESN’T have some sore history with Overwatch?

[Sombra]: sure we do but theyre what we call token-class cannon fodder

[Lúcio]: Truly, you must be a beacon of hope for those around you.

[Sombra]: ^_^

[Lúcio]: Hey, this is D.va. Can you just tell us where you guys are?

[Sombra]: aww come on whats a girl gotta do to get some laughs around here

[Lúcio]: Hah hah. Now come on.

[Sombra]: i dont want your pity laughs T_T

[Sombra]: whaaaaaateeevvverrr if youve gotta know, im going for the security cams, one-punch man and anime grill are going for the loot, and pink-eyes is playing the “shiny distraction” role. oh and our resident edgelord is there too soooo

[Sombra] glhf i guess

[Lúcio]: So, you’re gonna be taking down the cams? What about alarms and stuff?

[Sombra]: naw, no plans to set that stuff off this time but ill kill the feed/lights wirelessly and pretend im heading there

[Sombra]: you know

[Sombra]: like a liar

[Lúcio]: Mk, we’ll try to keep your being there on the dl, but don’t blame us if you blow your own cover.

[Sombra]: pssh do you think im an amateur?

[Sombra]: now… _apagando las luces_

…

“The power just shut off throughout MEKA…” Mercy reported as McCree peered over her shoulder, watching a monitor displaying a night vision camera implanted in Genji’s visor.

“Looks like that Sombra wasn’t lyin’ this time ‘round. I still say we shouldn’t trust her.”

“But so far she’s been pretty nice!” Efi pointed out as she sat at one of the tables on a small laptop with Orisa’s point of view displaying on it. “I know you’re mad at her and stuff, but I think she’s sad about what she did.”

McCree snorted. “Hah. Doubt that,” he spat, chewing on an unlit cigar. Mercy sighed.

“For now, she’s the only source of information we have. Unless you have a better idea, we’re best off listening to her.”

Jesse only grunted, pacing over to Efi’s seat, where he checked her screen before watching Mercy’s some more. The group had begun moving to the hangar full of MEKA suits. D.va was running alongside Orisa and Lúcio in the hallway lit only by their gear. Genji was far ahead of them, wide open to attack but also the one with the greatest chances of escape should things turn south.

Which, knowing their luck, it was probably about to.

…

Genji had to deflect a spry of bullets the moment the door to the open hangar slid open. With the quick slice of his blade and inhuman reflexes, before he even knew what he was doing, the bullets that were about to hit him flew off into walls. The next moment, he jumped up and off the wall to avoid the punch of an all-too-familiar gauntlet. Suddenly, he felt weak in the knees as purple light seemed to surround him on all sides, which quickly became pain. It took a shuriken thrown in the direction of his attacker to release himself from the beam of energy siphoning his power. Genji spun around, shoving the fuller of his katana against a shotgun barrel just as his attacker pulled the trigger, causing the gun to backfire. Using his other hand, he unsheathed his wakizashi and used the smaller blade to protect himself from incoming pink pulse bullets. He grunted as a few grazed him, but the damage was all superficial.

Lena cackled as she blinked over the shuriken aimed at her leg. “Tsk tsk. So predictable. You really need to learn some new tricks.”

“Duly noted.” Music began to play through his headset, one of the famous tracks by Lúcio that somehow filled Genji with vigour. The DJ was riding along the walls of the hangar, his sound pack glowing green along with his skates. Lurching off the wall and onto a support pillar, he fired his waves of sound and energy at the black and purple-clad redhead that had had most of her attention fixated on the baby blue MEKA unit she was tampering with. She rolled her eyes and held her hand out as purple light began to collect into a sphere. With the push of her hand, she launched it towards Lúcio. He cried out as some of the volatile, purple energy seemed to latch onto him. He immediately lurched off the pillar, gasping for breath once he was free of the life-draining orb.

“Interesting toy you’ve got there,” the scientist said, sounding bored. She didn’t even look at Lúcio as she planted something on in the wiring on side of the machine, which she had removed the protective panel from. “Vishkar’s sonic mind control technology, correct? Its a shame you ruined such a powerful machine like you did. It could have done much more than play a few songs.”  
“Sorry, I’m afraid I’ve got these things called morals. Probably a foreign concept for you, huh? Now, are you gonna fight me or are you just that pretentious?” Lúcio smirked as Moira’s eyebrow seemed to twitch.

“I’ve got more important things to do than fight a battle against someone who won’t even fight with the full power of his equipment. Besides, I think you have other things to worry about.”

“Lúcio! Watch out!” Hana screeched as the infamous Doomfist she had seen on the news when she was kid charged towards her friend. Hana flew forward and slid on the ground with her blink as she kicked her leg out in Doomfist’s path. The man skid to a stop before tripping. D.va gasped and covered her head with her hands as Doomfist changed his plans and was about to punch her.

“No you don’t!” Lúcio’s gun roared overhead and likely would have deafened Hana if it weren’t for her headphones. Doomfist flew back several feet but stopped himself quickly by digging his feet into the ground. But it was enough time for both D.va and Lúcio to get a fair distance away as they circled their foe. Lúcio jumped from wall to wall, firing shots as he flipped upside down and latched onto the ceiling long enough to avoid the orb Moira had fired again, though she still seemed far from focused on the fight. Hana continued to blink in circles, firing at him whenever she had the chance, though her bullets seemed to barely dent his cybernetic-enhanced limbs, and she couldn’t land a shot on his vitals.

Lúcio rolled to a pillar and jumped off, flying towards Doomfist with his gun out. His gun once again roared, but Doomfist barely flinched this time, his feet digging into concrete that was torn up from his sheer power. The man then grabbed Lúcio, who’s eyes were wide with realization that quickly turned to panic as Doomfist threw him back against a pillar. He crumpled to the ground as the pillar cracked from the force of his impact, blood dribbling from his mouth.

Hana’s eyes widened and she screamed in rage. Without hesitation, she began to attack Doomfist relentlessly.

Orisa charged out of the Overwatch dropship without hesitation to help Genji, who was fighting Slipstream and Reaper by himself. Reaper turned to face Orisa, giving Genji a chance to better defend himself from Lena as she attempted to shoot him in the back.  
Orisa launched a graviton chare, pulling Reaper into a line of shots. He burst into a puff of smoke, circling behind the robot. Orisa reared and kicked back with her hindquarters as he attempted to reform, forcing him to maintain his smoky form for several more seconds. He circled around Orisa, and when it seemed like he was going to reappear behind her again, she once again bucked back. Instead, he reformed only enough to blast her in the leg as his smoke swirled overtop her as he reformed on her back. Orisa reared back and bucked, trying to get her attacker off, but he was relentless as he fired again into the freshly damaged leg, causing it to spark dangerously. Next, he grabbed firmly onto one of her arms and yanked it back, making Orisa lose her balance and topple to the ground.

“No! Orisa!” Efi cried out as she watched from the ship in horror. She could hear the fight right outside the door, making everything feel vividly real as she watched Lúcio’s slow heartrate monitor apprehensively while Orisa’s vitals consisted of several critical errors. “Mercy! We have to do something! We can’t let them die! We can’t let my friends die!”

Mercy looked torn as her eyes flirted from the screens to the door.

“Oh, for the love of…” Jesse muttered under his breath. He pressed the comm he had on his ear. “Sombra. You’re listening in on this channel, right?”

There was a few moments silence, then a sigh. “Yes, yes I am,” said a voice that undoubtedly belonged to the hacker. “You wanna know if you can go out there, right? Well… Sending you out would raise so many alarm bells in the boss’ head… you know what? Fine. You guys go.”

There was no hesitation. Mercy grabbed her Caduceus staff and activated her Valkyrie suit. She pressed the door to open the hangar. She wasn’t the only one to run out. Before anyone could react, Efi snatched a communicator and bolted out the hangar door.

“Jesse! Follow me! I’ve got a plan!”

Slipstream continued her sparring session with Genji, the two running and blinking faster than eyes could track as they chased each other around the giant hangar, weaving through jets and MEKA units. Slipstream blinked on top of a ship as Genji followed in a flash of pink. She shot in the direction she knew Genji would come up, though her bullets only grazed his shoulder as he twisted out of the way and flipped on top of the small jet’s wing. She continued fighting with Genji, both moving in patterns they knew well in the other person. Neither could land a decent hit, the closest Genji had gotten to hurting her was a Shuriken that knocked off her goggles and shattered the right side of the plastic. A shot recall was all it took to heal whatever damage it caused to her, and she threw her goggles back on even with the missing half as the twosome continued to fight. They moved so rhythmically any spectators would swear it was choreographed. Then something caught Slipstream’s eye.

“Woah… is that D.va fighting Doomfist? Doesn’t that look familiar. I belive now would be a fitting time for me to go on about déjà vu and whatnot.” She could see Genji pause and stiffen as he saw the famous gamer fighting her former enemy. She was circling him, a blur of pink almost impossible to track with the eye. It was the same as last time. “Now… what was it that came next in this part of the story?”

Genji didn’t hesitate to abandon his fight with Lena as he dashed over to save Hana. Slipstream watched him go, interested.

“Slipstream? What are you doing? Kill them!” Reaper shouted through the mic, snapping her out of her stupor. She mentally kicked herself for getting distracted as she blinked once more into the fight.

D.va was fighting on instinct, ducking away from whatever blows Doomfist attempted to strike as she circled him, her glare fixated on him. Lúcio lay unconscious on the floor, and she had no intention of letting Doomfist near him. It became a cycle. Blink. Dodge. Attack.

Blink, dodge, attack. That was what she did.

Blink.

Dodge.

Attack.

Blink.

D-

She didn’t dodge. She realized this a moment too late as she felt herself pulled back. She felt Doomfist tighten his grip on the accelerator, and she realized in one terrible moment what was about to happen.

_“Ryūjin no ken wo kurae!_ ” There was a surge of blinding green light as a Dragon roared furiously. Genji dug his blade into Doomfist’s arm, forcing him to loosen his grip on Hana’s accelerator as she fell to the ground and watched. Genji’s dragon tore through the man’s arm, causing the infamous Doomfist to fall to the ground with distorted and sparking metal, though it still seemed mostly intact, with Doomfist’s normal bionic arm still inside.

Hana gasped for breath, checking her harness frantically for damage. There was a brief moment of silence as Genji’s dragon dissipated. Doomfist narrowed his glare.

“I remember you. Seems like you learned after last time. Moira. We need to go.”

D.va turned to Lúcio, breathing a sigh of relief as she saw Mercy treating him. Instead, she turned her attention to Orisa, who was currently fighting Reaper and struggling, having taken severe damage. “Guys! We gotta help Orisa!” D.va was the first to blink towards the centaur. But she was interrupted by a flash of neon pink. Slipstream stood in front of her, cocky as ever as she held her gun to D.va’s harness.

“Sorry, Love. I’m afraid I gotta stop you here. How about a rematch, hmm?”

D.va didn’t say anything, only trying to blink to Orisa. But no matter what she tried, Slipstream was there to stop her.

Genji’s voice cut through her heaphones. “D.va. You take Slipstream. I’ll help Orisa.”

“Roger!” D.va looked to Slipstream. “You’re really not going to let me past, are you?”

“Nope!” she chirped. “The boss kinda wants you dead, sooooooo…”

“Allright then. Come and get me.”

Slipstream smirked and began to chase her prey through the maze of jets and MEKAs, her mind fixated on the thrill of hunting the pink blur in front of her. Though she couldn’t put her finger on it, she was getting a strange feeling of déjà vu…

“Kid, this is the single dumbest thing I think I have ever done!” McCree shouted from on top of the MEKA unit Efi was in. “How the hell do you even know how to use this?”

“I looked over Hana’s, and she showed me some stuff ages ago! Now come on! We can’t let them get away with the MEKA!” Now just grab onto something!”

McCree grunted and grabbed onto the wing of the mech as it hummed to life with Efi inside. Immediately, the girl rocketed up several feet and activated some sort of hover mode.

Efi sighed in relief. “Looks like Genji is helping Orisa fight Reaper… and Mercy is helping Lúcio”

“Holy hell… is that D.va and Slipstream?”

“Ack, more importantly, look!” Thanks to Genji being preoccupied with Reaper, Doomfist was holding his gauntlet under good arm while holding onto a MEKA that Moira was flying towards a Talon dropship hovering at the hangar entrance. “Hang on!”

“Moira… of course it’s her. Somehow I’m less surprised to see her in Talon than I was Gabe.”

McCree’s hat flew off as the mech rocketed forward. Jesse grabbed peacekeeper and opened fire on Doomfist, several shots burying themselves in his arm. Despite that, he didn’t let go, only glancing at Efi and McCree before shouting something at Moira. Doomfist was the first to hop off the mech, landing safely in the open dropship twenty feet away thanks to powerful leg enhancements. However, there was no way for Moira to reach in time before Efi rammed into her with the full force of the mech at the same time Jesse.

Both suits careened out of control as the pilots attempted to right themselves. Jesse had managed to hold on thanks to his bionic arm, and he used the opening the opening to jump off Efi’s mech before it fell too far away and land on Moira’s.

“Knock knock, sweetheart.” McCree growled as he hit the glass windshield, poking his head over the mech after Moira managed to right it. “I hope you know you ain’t getting this thing on that ship.”

 “Fortunately for us, we still got what we needed. The mech would have been a nice bonus, but this changes nothing, Cowboy.” Moira smirked as she turned off the mech’s thrusters as the machine began to plummet to the hangar floor. McCree’s eyes widened as he jumped off just before it hit the ground, rolling as he hit the ground to spread the impact through his body. He grunted as a jolt of pain travelled through his body, but the damage was negligible. He looked up to see black smoke on the ship turn into Moira: apparently bursting into smoke was a popular party trick at Talon.

Then he remembered Efi. McCree whipped his head around and saw that the mech had crashed onto the ground and was sparking, smoking, and in shambles. Efi was hanging limply out the front windshield, which had cracked and left one or two noticeable cuts on her face. He ran over to her and quickly pulled her out of the machine, holding the small girl in his arms.

“Kid? Kid! You okay?”

Efi coughed, groaning. She was covered in bruises and bleeding in some areas, but she would be fine. “Don’t tell my mom and dad about this please… they’d kill me.” She coughed again as McCree laughed. “Jesus kid, you’re crazy. Can you walk?”

“Mm… I Don’t want to.” She chuckled at herself, but also winced, sucking some air through her teeth. Jesse had to remind himself that the kid had never needed to build up any pain tolerance before.

“Alright, fine. I’ll only carry ya this once.”

“Can you make it a piggyback ride?”

…

D.va and Slipstream continued running, neither willing to give the other party an inch. D.va was panting while Lena seemed fine, when all of a sudden, Slipstream paused, putting her hand to her ear as she listened to her communicator. She then turned to Hana with a grin. “Sorry D.va! This was fun, but I gotta go now!”

“No! You’re not leaving!” Hana blinked after Slipstream, but Reaper, who had retreated from his fight with Genji and Orisa, materialized between the gamer and pilot with his gun planted on her harness. In a panic, she blinked back several feet, giving the two of them a chance to run off.

“Bye!” Slipstream waved, following Reaper diligently as the two ran for the jet. Genji looked like she was about to run after them. Hana prepared to follow, when Sombra’s voice cut through their communicators in a panic.

“Wait! Wait! Don’t go near them yet! Circle around but keep your distance! Just trust me!”

“And why the hell should they trust you?” McCree’s voice retorted through the microphone.

“No time! Just listen to me! Please! I’m going to help!”

Genji seemed torn. “How do we know this isn’t a trick?”

D.va shook her head. “I’ve had some dreams about Sombra! I think we can trust her! Just do what she says!”

Genji didn’t hesitate as he began to take a detour, looping around Reaper and Slipstream, though the extra distance would mean he couldn’t intercept them before they reached the lowered dropship. Hana blinked after them in a similar fashion, hoping Sombra wasn’t lying. If Slipstream and Reaper got much closer, there’d be no way for them to intercept them.

Then D.va saw something. There was a purple shimmer in the air as the hacker seemed materialized in front of the escapees.

_“Apagndo las luces!”_

So much happened in the span of a second that it was hard to tell what was going on.

There was a blinding flash of purple that pulsed from the hacker. Reaper spun around without hesitation, pressing his gun against her abdomen. “You always were too rebellious for my liking.” There was the unmistakable bang of his shotgun, accompanied by the sharp odour of blood.

Hana, Genji, McCree, with Efi in his arms, and Mercy all ran towards the action at once. Mercy ran straight for Sombra to stabilize her while Genji stopped the bullets Reaper tried to bury in the back of her skull by slicing the gun in two before he could shoot.

Then there was Lena. Her accelerator flicked and malfunctioned. Hana hurried over to her, tearing off Slipstream’s harness but allowing her functioning one to act as an anchor. Slipstream seemed unaware of this as she sank to the ground. She ran her fingers through her hair, clutching her head as she trembled. Then she screamed. It was loud, broken, and full of absolute pain. Everyone save Reaper shivered.

“S-Stop it!” Lena screeched as she looked upward. With half of the pink goggle lens missing, she stared at nothing with wide, tearful, chocolate brown eyes. “Stop it! Stop it! Make it stop! Make it stop! Make it go away! **PLEASE MAKE IT GO AWAY!** ” Reaper used the distraction to sneak away, knowing full well nobody would let him get close to Oxton. Mercy bit her lip and continued to try and get Sombra stable, who was losing more blood by the second. McCree, was clenching his fists as Efi, who was on his back, held her hands over her ears with her eyes squeezed shut. Lúcio was still unconscious, though Orisa, who, despite all her damage, was attempted to get the DJ on her back, also seemed to pause at the cry for help. Hana wasn’t sure what to do as Tracer sank further to the ground, curling in on herself as she wept. “Please stop it… stop the pain… **Stop it stop it stop it stop it!** ”

Finally, Genji reacted. “Quickly! That was an EMP! It’s effects will be temporary! The sympathiser is going to come back on!” He knelt at Lena’s side, pulling out a small syringe he had been storing in place of one of his shurikens. “Forgive me, Lena.” The girl remained curled in a ball, loud sobs racking her whole body as Genji quickly injected her with the sleep serum. He whole body relaxed as she immediately went under, just as the pink began to return to her eyes.


	33. Wounded

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy freaking... that's a LOT of support for one chapter. Jesus Christ you guys blew me away! Wow! So, I was feeling particularly motivated and pumped out the next chapter for you guys! Enjoy! Btw this is literally the single longest chapter I have written in my two and a half years of writing. Like. Ever. Like. Wow this got out of hand, so I hope you guys like it!

Chapter 33- Wounded

…

Mercy started barking orders the moment Hana landed the jet in the hangar of Gibraltar. As per her orders, Hospital beds were already prepared. Symmetra, Winston, Reinhardt, Pharah, and Zenyatta were all waiting to help.

“McCree, grab Sombra’s IV drips! Reinhardt! Put Sombra on the bed then immediately help Efi by carrying Orisa to her workshop! Pharah, help Efi repair Orisa. Zenyatta, come with me as I take Sombra to the emergency room! Symmetra, get Lúcio on a bed and tend to him in one of the hospital rooms! Genji, put Lena on a bed and take her to medical wing! Hana, you’re going to need to go with Slipstream so she doesn’t get destabilized. McCree, once Sombra is in the bed with her IVs attached, go get Hana’s charger off the ship and follow them! Winston, you’ll need to take Slipstream’s prosthetic and harness and check them both thoroughly for sabotage.”

Everyone moved frantically. Even Zenyatta was running rather than levitating as he held out his harmony orbs over Sombra’s bed while Reinhardt carefully laid the girl down on it, McCree begrudgingly trailed after them until he could move the IV drips from the rolling rack to the bed. She was beyond pale, with her clothes covered in blood. She was barely breathing after the several-hour flight back, with Mercy’s nano-technology being the only thing letting her cling to life.

Symmetra looked less-than-pleased, but she didn’t argue as she helped a barely-conscious Lúcio stagger over to a bed before wheeling him off. Winston hesitated, glancing at Lena for a long moment before tearing his gaze away and shaking his head as he grabbed technology and stumbled off to his lab with it. Reinhardt, Pharah, and Efi hurried off with Orisa, who was barely able to walk on her own thanks to the many injuries she had sustained.

Before Mercy could rush off with Sombra, McCree grabbed her arm. “Doc, how long until you can get that sympathiser out of Lena’s head? Talon can prolly fry her brain or something with it!”

Mercy whipped around, yanking her arm free. “I don’t know, Jesse. You’re going to have to be patient. Right now, Sombra is my top priority.”

“But Lena could die at any moment!”

“And Sombra **will** die at any moment unless we do something. I’m sorry, but you’re going to have to wait a few hours. Genji, hook Lena up to a heartrate monitor and an IV drip with a sedative in it to keep her under while I’m operating on our _guest_ here.”

McCree growled. “Who gives a damn what happens to Sombra? I’m more worried about Lena! After everything Talon- after everything Sombra put her through, you’re going to prioritize _her_ over Lena?”

“Jesse, calm down.” Genji put his hand on McCree’s shoulder. “You’re stressed, but that’s no reason to act irrationally.”

“Irrational? **Irrational?** Well excuse me, but I’d rather _not_ see Tracer die because we decided to wait so we could help the person who _captured her in the first place_ before her!”

Mercy shook her head, narrowing her eyes. “Do you think I don’t care about Lena? Because believe me, after that video, I want nothing more than to heal every scrape she may have, but that will simply have to wait. Right now, I have to prioritize the immediate danger Sombra is in over hypothetical danger Lena is in.” Mercy turned around and stormed away with Sombra in the direction of the medical wing, with Zenyatta following close behind.

McCree balled his hand into a fist and shouted after her. “What the hell is hypothetical about some implant in her brain!? And Sombra can die for all I care! She’s the one that got us all in this mess in the first place!”

Hana chewed her lip. “She’s really not that bad.”

McCree turned his glare on her. “What the hell is up with you? You’ve been defendin’ her non-stop! Do you not see what she put Lena through?!” McCree gestured to Slipstream, who was lying on the bed with a pale pink glow barely visible from under her eyelids.  
“She’s been trying to make up for it. She just doesn’t know how,” Hana pressed as Genji began pushing Lena’s bed.

“Oh, really now?! Are ya tellin’ me that the cyber-terrorist suddenly grew a conscience? Because that’s the shittiest bull I’ve ever heard!” he snarled, his voice loud.

“You know what? That’s exactly what I’m telling you. Not everyone is a villainous overlord.” Hana retorted, crossing her arms over the harness. “Stop pretending like you know what’s going on inside her mind when I’ve **literally** been inside her head. And let me tell you, she’s felt pretty awful. And she’s done just about everything she can to make up for what she did!”

“Oh, because leaking info from time to time makes up for capturing someone to be tortured and mind-controlled,” Jesse spat back, gesturing to Slipstream’s scarf.

“Seems to me like you already forgot that she’s the reason we managed to capture Slipstream back in the first place. And she got shot full of holes at point-blank because of it! I’m sure she was looking for a better, safer opportunity, too. I’ve seen how she’s been thinking! She’s been guilty! She’s been scared! She’s been stuck in a group full of murderers with no way out! It’s not some game where she can get a one-up and try again if she messes up! Her life has been just as on-the-line as Tracer’s! And a few hours ago, she finally decided to put someone else’s life over her own and _this_ is how you thank her? By saying she should die? Where’s the justice in that?” Hana took a deep breath as she turned away from Jesse and began to unstrap her harness. “From what I’ve heard, you’ve made your fair share of mistakes in your life, yet Overwatch has given you a ton of extra chances to make things right. So, quit acting like she’s beyond redemption or something.”

Jesse looked like he was about to say something, but Genji interrupted him by placing his hand on McCree’s shoulder. “Jesse. Calm down. Everyone is injured and tired. We can debate what is and is not best for Sombra and Lena when we are all in our right minds. For now, just do what Angela said and get Hana’s charger.”

“Like hell am I gonna- “

“Jesse. _Please_ ,” Genji begged. McCree glared, then grunted, turning around to retrieve the charger from the jet.

Genji sighed from behind his mask and began pushing Lena towards one of the hospital rooms as Hana followed closely behind. As they walked, Hana fidgeted with the various clasps and buckles on her harness. After fighting it for a few moments, she pulled it over her head, grunting as the strapped snagged on her ponytail. Genji chuckled at her plight.

“You could ask for help, you know,” he offered, pausing to help untangle Hana’s hair from the heavy harness. She grunted indignantly.

“Hey! I got it!”

“Now that I’ve helped you, yes, you do,” he said in good nature, handing the harness back to her. Hana shook her head, instead setting the device on Slipstream’s chest.

“Last thing we’d want is for her to fade through time and wake up and whatnot. I’m still not totally sure why it’s impossible to sleep while destabilised…” Hana admitted. “It’s like… I’m never tired, but even then, I don’t even think I can sleep even if I was already sedated. From what I’ve heard, Lena just disappeared immediately if she was destabilized while asleep. Which is like, _really annoying,_ because it’d be _great_ to sleep away that boredom.”

Genji went quiet for a moment, pensive as he pondered Hana’s words while pushing Lena’s bed. “Is it possible you disappear whenever you are asleep, and when you disappear it is equivalent to something of a fainting spell?”

“You know… it could be. But who knows? It’s not exactly something I wanna test if I don’t have to.” Hana made sure to stand close to the bed, probably a bit closer than normal, but she figured nobody would complain, given she wasn’t in the mood to deal with fading through time. She yawned. “Do you think we’ll need people to take watch and whatnot? Talon might come after Lena and Sombra. Then it’d be game over for all of us. Back to level one.”

Genji considered her words. “No, we managed to injure Reaper and Doomfist, and Moira never was the kind of person to get involved in the fight if she could just watch from the side-lines. We have time before anyone of importance will be in any position to launch a proper ‘rescue mission.’” He snorted at his last comment. “I’m less-than-surprised to see her Moira working with Talon, though.”

“Oh yeah, Moira was the edgy woman with the silver eyepatch that ran like an anime character, right? The one that copied Reaper’s edge-step power? What’s her story?”

Genji grunted. “Dr Moira O’Deorain. Reyes brought her on board shortly after McCree and me. She was in charge of the sketchier side of cybernetic enhancements. She got a kick out of seeing what kinds of bells and whistles she could include in my ‘upgrades.’ Mostly harmless stuff though, like being able to jump higher or whatever. Angela usually made sure to take care of my injuries personally, so I never was in her lab long.”

“Ohhhh, so she’s the stereotypical mad scientist that’ll experiment on a puppy for the fun of it?”

Genji nodded. “Basically. Though she prefers experimenting on bunnies. She was particularly interested in further researching Tracer’s chronal technology, but she was never comfortable around Moira, so Winston never let her near Lena.”

“Aw, not bunnies! I’m pretty fond of those! That’s so not cool!”

“It figures that’s the point you’d fixate on,” Genji joked as they rounded the corner to the medical wing. One of the rooms was already occupied, presumably with Sombra. “But yeah, the short version is that she’s an asshole.”

“Trust me, I got the subtext. Anyway, where’s Jesse? Grabbing the charger should have taken literally eight seconds.” Hana yelped and jumped into a vacant room after Genji after a brief poke from Time.

“Taking his sweet time and venting into a wall. He’s not exactly great at controlling his temper.”

Hana clasped her hands together and said in a melodic voice, “Patience is a virtue.”

“You sound like Zenyatta.” Genji tried to hook Lena up to an IV drip, only for him to groan when he rolled up her sleeve. Lena’s purple gloves that extended and wrapped around her hands were some sort of undershirt, keeping Genji from inserting anything into her arm.

After a moment, he sighed again. “Sorry again, Lena. If the doctor asks, I did this with a pocket knife.” He grabbed one of his stored shurikens, and pinched a small amount of the fabric in his hand. He used his Shuriken to create a tear in the fabric near her wrist before sliding the weapon back into the storage compartment in his arm. Next, he began to rip the fabric, tearing it so that he could slide the sleeve down and allow him to insert the IV drip into her hand. Next, he wrapped a wristband securely around her wrist as a heartrate monitor began to beep in the background. Hana noticed some scarred skin poking out from the edges of the long sleeve as she remembered the cuffs on her arms with no small sense of queasiness.

“That should do it for what Angela requested,” Genji said after a moment. He hesitated, and Hana couldn’t help but wonder what expression he was making under his visor as he looked at his friend, lying unconscious in bed, missing a leg and coming from the enemy team.

Finally, McCree shuffled his way inside the room, carrying Hana’s charger and still looking grumpy. “Y’all’re way too loud. I could hear ya down the hall.” Without looking at either person in the room, he bent down at the nearest electrical outlet and plugged in Hana’s charger, which he carried to the harness. Setting the charger by Lena’s bed, he finally plugged in the chronal accelerator. Hana sighed in relief as she could feel the slight _tugging_ sensation from being a few feet away from the harness vanish. She finally looked around the room, her gaze fixating on a comfortable-looking armchair. A few seconds later, she flopped down onto it with a content sigh.

The room was silent for a moment. Genji watched McCree carefully, unsure of what he would do. The cowboy took a few steps towards Lena as he took further inventory of his friend’s injuries. He narrowed his eyes at the scarf.

“Jesse,” Genji warned, putting his hand on McCree’s shoulder as the man reached for the garment on Slipstream’s neck.

“Calm down. I ain’t doin’ nothin’. I just gotta look.” He grabbed the bright pink scarf in his normal hand, gently unwrapping it as he revealed Lena’s neck.

Hana stood up, peeking over the bed to see what McCree was glaring at. She wasn’t sure what she was expecting, but even though she wasn’t surprised, she was still mortified at the scar wrapping Lena’s neck like a necklace. It was pink and white, twisted and distorted. The skin was rough to look at and seemed to be old but irritable, like rubbing it too hard would cause it to start bleeding all over again. Hana sat back down, feeling ill.

“McCree- ” Genji started, only for the cowboy to cut him off.

“God dammit… I’m going to kill that bastard if it’s the last thing I do. How the hell would Reyes ever be okay with this!? I can’t believe I ever trusted him!”

“McCree! Calm down!”

“Why the hell should I calm down?!” McCree about-faced and scowled at Genji. “You’re seein’ the exact same thing I am! Why the hell aren’t you angry, too?! Am I the only one in the base that **actually** wants to see Lena cured!?”

Genji shook his head, his voice firm. “Of course, you aren’t! Stop pretending like you think I’m not upset either! But if you let your anger control you- “

“Oh enough with the preachy bullshit! You’ve been spendin’ too much time with that robot! Look at this! Look at what Reyes did to her! And you’re acting like everything is A-okay!”

Genji stiffened. “You will leave my master out of this discussion. And believe me, I know full-well what is wrong. Probably more than you do, given I know my way around debilitating injuries. And believe me. Part of me wants nothing more than to let my dragon rip Gabriel in two. But acting for vengeance gets us nowhere, fast.”

“Like hell it doesn’t! If we take Reyes out, then he won’t be able to do anything like this ever again! How is that actin’ for just ‘vengeance?!’” McCree’s voice was steadily growing louder, though Genji didn’t appear like he was about to back down as Hana watched the argument with wide eyes.

“Listen to yourself! Do you honestly think you’re thinking rationally? What you’re saying is the definition of wanting revenge!”

“No, it ain’t! It’s wantin’ justice! Look at her! Look at everything he did to her! She didn’t deserve any of this! She was tortured, brutally injured, mind controlled, and forced to do stuff she’d never do! And you’re acting like all Reyes did deserves a slap on the wrist! Do you really not care that much!? I think hangin’ out with that Omnic screwed with your common sense!”

McCree’s remark hung in the air for a single, silent moment with tension so thick that Genji’s blade could cut it. The Cyborg took a single step closer to McCree, inches away from his face as he pulled off his visor. His eyes were intense, almost hurt, as he glared daggers into McCree. “Listen to me now, McCree.” He took another step closer. “You know full well that I care for Lena just as much as you do. You are perfectly aware that I **know** what Reaper did to her. You should **know** that I knew Reyes just as well as you did back in Blackwatch. I feel just as betrayed as you do. So, **stop** implying you’re the only person with any clue what is going on. None of us are **stupid.** I lie awake at night, actively trying to get the thoughts of revenge out of my head. I’m **trying** to remain calm and rational about this. But someone like you, going around and screaming your head off at me, saying that I don’t **care** is really making that difficult. So, wake up. You are **not** the only one that cares about Lena. Stop saying that I’m not **aware** of the gravity of what Reaper did. And **_stop_** badmouthing Zenyatta like that. He is the only reason I have moved on from my past like I have. He is the only reason I don’t jump to _violence_ before anything else. He is the only reason I try to **use** common sense! If anyone needs to talk with Zenyatta more, it’s you! So, leave him out of this.”

McCree’s glare wavered as he fumbled for some retort. But no words came out. He just scowled and stormed out of the room.

After he was gone and the door to the room slid shut, Genji sighed and clicked his visor back into place. “I’m sorry you had to see that, Hana.”

“It… It’s fine,” D.va responded awkwardly. “Are… you okay?”

Genji chuckled, though it was uneasy. “Of course. No need to worry about me.”

Hana frowned. “Alright… but you were right when you said it was late… you can leave me here and go get some rest…”

The ninja pondered her offer. “I do not wish to leave you trapped alone all night.”

D.va shook her head. “No, don’t worry about that. I’m about ready to pass out, anyway. This chair is really comfortable.”

“There’s a softer blanket hidden under it, I believe,” Genji offered.

Hana’s eyes lit up. “Oh, even better! See? You don’t need to worry!”

“In that case, I think I will go get some rest. Thank you, Hana. Once again, I apologise for that display earlier. Sleep well.”

Hana waved to Genji as he hurried out the door. She hoped he was going to talk with Zenyatta. But she couldn’t worry about that right now. She reached under the armchair and fiddled for the blanket. After wrestling with it for a few seconds, she pulled out a soft blanket that would more than suffice. She practically fell asleep the moment she covered her face with it as Slipstream’s heart monitor beeped in the background.

…

“Ugh! It’s so frustrating! She treated me like a little kid!” Efi vented as Pharah passed her a mug of chocolate milk. The two had been working with Reinhardt to repair Orisa, though it was clear Efi was beyond tired. So, with the promise that he would keep a close eye on Orisa, Reinhardt sent the twosome off for a break. “The whole way back from the mission, Dr Ziegler was going _on and on_ about how ‘reckless I was being’ and how ‘I’m not supposed to be the one fighting!’ It was so frustrating!”

Pharah listened to the child, her lip tilted upward in a small, amused grin. Efi rubbed the bandaging wrapping her arm. “I didn’t even get _that_ hurt! I don’t see what the big deal is!”

“Mercy has always been the kind of person to fret over others. You should have seen her when Jesse first lost his arm. I heard he cried a bit.”

Efi giggled. “Really? Wow. I’ve heard so many rumours about the doctor. You guys make her sound like a maniac!”

“When it comes to health, she certainly is maniacal about making sure we are as well as we can be. She’s particularly worried about you, though.” Pharah explained, sipping her own cup of chocolate milk as she sat down across from the girl.

“Why? Is it because of my age? I’m not that young, you know!” Efi defended, crossing her arms again.

“Of course, you aren’t,” Pharah said in a hurry, which seemed to calm Efi down some. “But you joined Overwatch as an engineer. You were never supposed to fight.”

“But if I can help, then I should!” Efi pressed, though that didn’t stop her from taking another drink of her milk.

“But what about your parents?” Pharah said, making Efi blink.

“Mom and Dad? What about them?” the child asked tipping her head to the side.

“I can tell they care about you a lot; they’d be very worried if you were fighting. If you get badly hurt, they’ll be really upset.”

Efi paused, looking down. “I mean… I know that! But I should try to do what’s right! You don’t get it!”

To that, Pharah laughed. Efi gave her a confused glare. “Hey! What’s so funny?”

“Nothing is funny. You just remind me of myself when I was your age,” Fareeha admitted. “All I wanted to do was fight. My mother wouldn’t have any of that, though.”

“Captain Amari? I haven’t spoken with her much… she really didn’t want to let you fight even though she was so good at it?”

Pharah nodded. “As a kid, I couldn’t understand it. All I wanted was for her to let me join Overwatch. Even after she ‘died,’ I still couldn’t get into Overwatch. I think Mother had called in favours and told them to never let me in.” Pharah chuckled. “Boy, was I upset.”

“But now you’ve got that awesome jetpack flight suit thing! That’s still pretty mean of the captain, though…”

“Oh, I was furious at the time. Now, I can understand why she did it. Not to say I agree with it, though,” Fareeha admitted after a moment.

“Wait… I’m confused now. What’s the morale of this story?” Efi took another drink of her milk, waiting for Pharah to continue.

“That when the doctor is keeping you from fighting, it’s only because she cares. And while you may be mad about that now, it’s only so you’ll be able to live a long, happy life.”

Efi frowned, clearly not happy with the message. Fareeha sighed. “And that if you’re really serious, I can take you to the training field and show you some basic hand-to-hand techniques, though. However, for the time being, it’d be for only self-defence.”

Efi’s face lit up. “Oooh! Really? You’ll show me?! Awesome! And yeah, self-defence. I know. But if I were to, hypothetically speaking, find myself in the same room as Reaper, it’d count as self-defence if I drop kicked him, right?” She gave a cheeky grin.

Pharah laughed. “I can promise that nobody would be mad at you if you gave him a bruise or two! Just be careful though, please. If you go in and try to attack someone when your life isn’t in danger, I’ll feel responsible if you get hurt.”

The girl sighed. “Yeah, okay… fine.”

Fareeha nodded gratefully and took another sip of the mug of milk, sighing in contentment as she set it back on the table. The two were silent for a moment as Efi stared at her mug.

She hummed. “Umm…”

“Hmm? What is it.” Pharah perked up.

“Oh… nothing… don’t worry about it.”

Fareeha chuckled. “Come on, out with it. What’s up?”

“I was… er… I was just curious… but… I was wondering if sometime… You could maybe take me flying in your suit?”

“You wouldn’t be the first person to ask that, you know. Thankfully, you’re much lighter than a mildly injured Helix squad mate.” Pharah smirked. “But if I could carry him, I can carry you. Sure, I can take you for a little flight. I just recommend getting goggles first.”

“Goggles? Why?” Efi asked, though she was already bouncing in her seat from excitement.

“Because that particular ally broke his visor. A fly hit his eye.”

Efi giggled. “That sounds terrible! And you’re terrible for finding it funny! I guess I’m terrible too!” she yawned and looked at the clock on the wall. “Oh… it’s getting late. I should try to finish fixing Orisa tonight…”

“No, Efi. You’re not going to be able to finish fixing her tonight. She’s in a much better condition than she was. After this, you’re going straight to bed.”

The child groaned. “You sound just like my mom!”

“But I’ll take you flying first thing tomorrow morning.”

“Okay, maybe a little less like my mom.”

…

“None of the damage is permanent,” Satya said in monotone as she finished wrapping some bandaging around Lúcio’s legs. “Your back will need time to heal, and you have However, even with your exoskeletal enhancements, I suggest a few days of bed rest and minimal walking for a week after.”

Lúcio sighed. “Whatever you say, Vishkar.” He yawned and leaned back in the bed, pulling the covers over his legs, which weren’t much good without the cybernetic exoskeleton on, anyway. He had managed to change into a more comfortable t-shirt and pair of sweatpants, although Symmetra was originally opposed to it. She was wearing her combat outfit. Lúcio had the feeling it was just her favourite thing to wear. “I don’t suppose I can at least wait the healing out in my own room, can I?”

Symmetra thought for a moment, “That should be fine. The painkilling IV drip should be transported to your room with you, but other than that, I see no issues with it. I can take you there now if you like.”

The DJ blinked. “You’re awfully generous today. I guess I’ll take you up on that offer.”

“I am not incapable of being ‘kind,’ if that’s what you were implying.”

“No, no, it’s not. Just… alright let’s go back to my room.” Symmetra just nodded and began to move him out of the hospital room. An awkward silence hung over the air as they passed through the halls of Gibraltar. Everyone was busy with one thing or another, so the building was deserted.

“I will bring your skate suit and sonic amplifier to you after I take you to your room. My apologies for leaving it on the ship.”

Lúcio blinked, “Uh… alright. You don’t seem too upset about your tech anymore, huh?” he laughed nervously. “Think we can call that character development?”  
Satya bit her lip. “I know it is better used by you than by Vishkar at this point.”

“Wait, really?” Lúcio was stunned. “Why the sudden change?” He turned around in the bed as Symmetra continued to push at a much slower pace.

She quieted, staring ahead as she gathered her words. “I saw the footage of your fight with Talon back in MEKA. The argument with Moira O’Deorain was what caught my attention, in particular.”

“Alright?” Lúcio had a feeling he knew where this was going. “She did mention something about my technology that I stole, yeah. What of it?”

“Do you think me to be like Moira O’Deorain?” Satya asked. She had completely stopped the bed at this point.

“I… you’re gonna have to be a bit more specific than that,” Lúcio stammered, not sure how to reply.

“During your skirmish, she admonished you for not utilizing the mind-controlling capabilities of the sonic technology. Do you think of me as someone with her levels of regard for humane limits to technology?” She looked away, rubbing part of her dress’ fabric between her fingers.

“I mean, you work for a company that tried to enslave my country. I don’t think someone would work for them if you _weren’t_ okay with it.” Lúcio turned back around, lying back on the bed. “And honestly, that’s a pretty shitty thing to do. So, I think you can see where I’m coming from when I’m a little pissed off.”

“I have stated this before. I was not aware this was how Vishkar utilized the sonic tech until you brought it to my attention. I only overlooked such an egregious invention because it has its merits when used for interrogation. It should never have been used against civilians.”

“That’s something we can both agree on,” Lúcio huffed. “But obviously you aren’t _that_ against it.”

Satya narrowed her eyes and leaned over the side of the bed so Lúcio could see her glare. “Why do you assume this?”

“You still use their technology and are here on their behalf. You represented Vishkar when you went to the U.K. Sounds to me like you still support them plenty.” He sat back up with a groan as his back protested. “If you were really against Vishkar, you’d leave them in the dust.” Satya hesitated, looking unsure.

“Do you not think the idea has crossed my mind? I consider leaving Vishkar on a daily basis. But if I do that, they’ll undoubtedly send someone here in my stead, leaving Overwatch with someone who wouldn’t hesitate to expose the plenty of criminals hiding here. Including, but not limited to, the outlaw Jesse McCree, the vigilantes known as Shrike and Soldier 76, the cyber-terrorist Sombra, the vandals and robbers known as the Junkers, and last but not least, Talon’s latest terrorist known as Lena “Slipstream” Oxton. If I leave Vishkar, then there’s no promises that their presence here will remain hidden.”

“Then take them down! The shit they take part in is extremely illegal! I’m sure we can get some sort of dirt on them!” Lúcio argued, his voice raising.

“I’ve searched. Unfortunately, I didn’t have access to anything useful. And even then, what would ‘taking out’ Vishkar accomplish? Putting hundreds of employees, equally as ignorant to what their employers use their technology for, out of a job and sending them to live on the streets? Because that’s the opposite of why I remained with Vishkar despite my doubts all these years. I want to _keep_ people in stable homes. That’s what Vishkar promised.” Satya adjusted her visor as she finally met Lúcio’s gaze.”

The man was startled. He wasn’t quite sure what to say. “Well… then have you considered trying to change Vishkar?”

Symmetra blinked. “Pardon me? Change Vishkar? I am not nearly at a high enough rank to change them to any significant degree.”

“Well… you don’t want them to use their technology like they do. You want to build communities for people in the slums. Seems like the only way to get both of those to come true without putting the company away for good is to stop what they’re doing yourself.” Lúcio sighed. “As for how you’d do that, I’ve got no clue. But if you want it bad enough, you can probably figure something out.”

Satya knit her brows in confusion. “I was under the impression you hated me. Why are you suddenly giving me all this advice?”

“I don’t hate you. I hate the company you work for. And if you hate them, then the enemy of my enemy is my friend. Plus, I’ve not got enough energy to be mad right now.”

This seemed to snap Satya out of her stupor. “Oh, my apologies. I should get you to your room so you can rest.” She continued pushing the cart as Lúcio chuckled. He flopped back on the bed.

“How about this? Once we’ve got this whole ‘Slipstream’ ordeal figured out, we can look into ways to get control of Vishkar. You don’t have to take the company down, and my country stops being oppressed. Seems like a win-win to me.”

Satya thought for a moment. She stammered, “Ah, yes… that seems like a suitable arrangement. I… I appreciate the offer, Mr. dos Santos. Thank you.”

“No prob, Vaswani.”

…

Hana awoke to the repetitive beeps of a heartrate monitor. She yawned, sitting up in the armchair. Mercy had her hair pulled back with a lab coat on, and Hana noticed Slipstream had been changed out of her Talon uniform and into a standard hospital gown, though she was covered mostly by the thin hospital blanket, and her scarf was still lightly draped over her neck.

“Oh, hello, Hana. Sorry for waking you this late at night, but it’s the first chance I’ve had to give Lena a proper medical examination.”

“Mm. Don’t worry about it. Did you get the sympathiser out?” she asked as she sat up in the recliner with a small groan.

“No, not yet, much to Jesse’s dismay I’m sure.” Angela sighed. “You can see her eyes glowing behind her eyelids.”

It was true. Hana peeked over the hospital bed where Slipstream was sedated, and her eyelids did indeed have a faint pink shine to them. “What is that stuff making them shine, anyway? It’s super freaky.”

Mercy busily typed notes up on a HoloVid as she answered. “It appears to be the standard solution given to colour-blind or visually impaired patients. It can be modified radiate different colours and send them to the brain when stimulated with a certain signal. In terms of danger, both the solution and radiated signal to cause it to glow are harmless. Genji had some while he was first being treated. His eyes glowed red for a while because of it.”

“Ohhh… okay… When I heard about those eyes I’d just assumed it was to keep the edgy look going,” Hana said lamely, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, watching with mild interest.

“Given Gabriel was in charge of the Blackwatch uniforms, it’s not something I’d have put past him.” Mercy allowed herself a brief chuckle before she turned back to Slipstream with a sad sigh. “To think he could have caused all this. I definitely have my work cut out for me here. Honestly if you had told me when I met Lena that I’d have to give her a check-up like this, I would call you crazy.”

“Hmm? Why? She seems fine aside from the eye-glowy thing. I don’t think she got a proper injury yesterday.” Hana took a few steps back as the doctor shuffled by her as she pulled on a pair of hospital gloves.

“Because there’s no telling what kind of drugs could be in her system, especially since she had been appearing to be in such good health so shortly after what Reaper did.” The doctor’s expression tightened as she drew a syringe of Lena’s blood from her shoulder. She set the large vial in a scanner that drained and analysed her blood.

“What kind of issues would she have from all that? I know there are those burns and her leg but other than that…”

“The scars are just the visible damage. Those on their own have issues that we’ll need to address. For instance, one thing I noticed she had been trying to hide, look.” She took a deep breath, and removed Slipstream’s scarf, once more revealing the ugly scar wrapping her neck. It made Hana feel ill just looking at the twisted white and pink burn that didn’t get a chance to heal in time. Mercy gingerly ran her fingers along the mark with a painfully neutral expression. Next, she gently grabbed the sides of Lena’s head and turned it, like she was making her look to the right and left; the only difference was that Mercy stopped after turning the head in, at best, twenty degrees in both directions.

“The scars restrict her movement in the neck. The skin there is a lot less flexible and far more rigid, leaving her unable to turn her head fully. She mostly compensated for this by turning her whole body when she needed to look around. So, while it appears the scars have been treated on occasion, it doesn’t seem like she was going any rehabilitation to regain flexibility.”

D.va blinked, biting her lip as she tapped her fingers on her sides in some vague rhythm. “Really? I didn’t notice at all… Can you heal that?”

Mercy shook her head. “Unfortunately, these scars have healed just about as much as they can without some sort of cybernetic replacements, which I would rather avoid if at all possible. Her chronal disassociation would add a long list of technicalities for us to deal with in that regard. Surgery is possible, but it wouldn’t give her much in the way of flexibility. However, if, when we’ve got Lena back, she cooperates and does some small, daily exercises with some a little medication, I believe she can regain some of what she may have lost. That wouldn’t be easy, though. She also had one of those metal shackles on the entirety of her torso, meaning I doubt she’s even close to being able to touch her toes. But, like I said, rehabilitation is key. We just need to be grateful the scars were treated as well as they were, or else Lena would have a much harder time than she already will in the future.” Mercy sighed again as she shuffled over to one of her cabinets, grabbing a bottle of some kind of lotion from the back. She poured a small amount on her fingers, which she began to rub on Lena’s neck scar.

Hana hummed,” I’m not sure ‘grateful’ is the right word to use there. I prefer ‘ever-so-slightly-less-pissed-off-than-I-already-am.’” Mercy’s small huff of amusement was enough of a win for her for the time being. “Anyway, I don’t like just lurking here. Do you want some help? I can do her arms, if you want. I figure she’s got some there, too.”

Mercy nodded. “Thank you, Hana. Wash your hands and grab a pair of the disposable gloves. Normally I wouldn’t allow something like this, but seeing as your stuck here, I’ll make an exception.”

Once she had cleaned her hands and thrown on a pair of the thin, plastic gloves, Hana grabbed the bottle off the counter on which the doctor had set it. She squeezed a dollop of it onto her finger, and pulled Lena’s left arm out from under the bedsheet. She wrinkled her nose as she saw Lena’s uncovered forearm for the first time. It was just as ugly and mangled as her neck, though it was the size of it, as it spanned from her wrist to elbow, that made it set in for Hana just how much Slipstream’s costume had been hiding. Chewing her lip, Hana began to rub the thick cream on Lena’s arm. The skin was just as rough as it looked, though Hana chose to ignore that and ask the doctor more questions as they worked.

“You said the scars were just the surface-level stuff. What other crap does Lena need treated?”

Mercy finished treating Lena’s neck and moved on to her left leg. Hana felt a little weird watching, so she just focused her attention on Lena’s arm while the doctor spoke. “Talon probably already did what they could for other major health issues. Keep in mind, these are not ordinary burns. They are electrical burns. It honestly is a miracle that Lena’s heart didn’t stop long before we tried to rescue her. Although, I’m sure Reaper had something planned for if that did happen. It’s also possible whatever food they gave her was drugged with something to strengthen her heart and prevent it from failing. I’m testing her blood right now, but she is most definitely on some form of heart medication. She will likely continue needing it for the rest of her life, but once I figure out what kind Talon was using, getting that sorted out shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Why do you need to know what kind Talon was using?”

“Because it would probably be best to keep her on something similar, if possible. But if it’s addictive or dangerous in some way, I’ll probably put her on something different.”

“Ah, okay.” Hana decided to let that topic be for now, since Dr Ziegler obviously knew best. In the whole time they’d been talking, her expression had hardly changed from being all-business as she spoke in mostly monotone with the slightest tinge of sadness.

“The other major thing I’d wager she’s on some sort of drug for is motor skill issues. Most effective medicine for that sort of damage is fairly new, but given she’s not had any issues in doing things like shooting or walking, it wouldn’t surprise me to find something treating that in her system.”

Hana hummed again, somewhat confused. “Okay, I kinda got it, but not totally. By “motor skill,” you mean stuff like writing, right?”

“Anything that requires precise muscle-movement. Spasms are not uncommon in people who have suffered extreme exposure to electricity. However, it is, once again, something that can be taken care of with a daily pill of some kind, depending on what Talon gave her.”

By the time the doctor was done, she had already put the covers back on Lena’s legs and had begun treating her torso in the time it took Hana just to move on to Lena’s other arm. “That… seems like a _lot_ of debuffs. Will she ever be fit for active duty again?” she asked nervously, mildly afraid of the answer.

Much to her relief, the doctor nodded. “Physically? Yes. None of this should, in the long term, greatly hinder her ability to fight. Now, whether or not she’ll want to, and whether or not she’ll be allowed to are horses of different colours.”

That caught Hana by surprise. “What? I know she’ll have a lot of issues to get worked out emotionally once we get that stupid Sympathiser out, but what do you mean ‘allowed to?’ Are you guys seriously not going to let her back onto active duty if she wants to?”

“Oh, no. I’m sure Jack wouldn’t be a huge fan of it, but if she wants to, Lena is always welcome to fight with us. It’s the government I’m more worried about. Right now, we are keeping the fact that Slipstream is in our custody on the down-low. However, we’ll have to reveal that she’s in our custody soon. And once she’s considered ‘sane’ enough, she will have to be tried for her crimes.”

“What? She’s going to have to go to court? But none of what she did is her fault!” Hana all-but-shouted, glaring at Angela in disbelief. She shook her head.

“I couldn’t agree more. Everyone in Overwatch agrees one-hundred-percent. However, it was Lena Oxton that was seen attacking civilians. It was Lena Oxton that killed that man in Numbani. Like it or not, she is going to have to answer for those crimes.”

“So, she’s gonna go to jail for something she was forced to do?”

Mercy stopped and finally turned to Hana, her neutral expression moulding into determination. “No. Lena is not going to go to jail. Either we’re going to find a way to prove her innocent, we’re going to take custody of her similarly to how Overwatch first gained custody over McCree, or we will break her out of prison. None of us are going to let anything else like that happen to Lena.”

D.va couldn’t help but be startled by Mercy’s sudden passion. She grinned. “I can help with the breaking-out part if we have to do that!”

Angela raised an amused eyebrow. “I’m not sure that’d be a great way to avoid incriminating Overwatch.”

“I dunno what you mean! I am the master of subtle!” Hana slammed her hand to her fist. Then she grunted in annoyance as she realized she got the lotion all over the glove. Mercy chuckled.

“Let’s finish tending to Lena’s burns. Afterwards, I need to go check on Sombra one more time while Lena’s blood is analysed. Then I’ll call Winston in here and we’ll begin looking into the Sympathiser.”

Hana raised an eyebrow. All tonight? Aren’t you going to get some sleep?”

The doctor crossed her arms. “Weren’t you the one quoted as saying ‘sleep is for the weak?’ at three-a.m. a couple weeks ago?”

“Touché” D.va said with a chuckle.

…

Mercy couldn’t help but pity Winston as he bumbled into the room with various machines piled in one arm. The moment he laid eyes on Lena, he froze, his gaze fixating on her. Hana had fallen back asleep on the armchair, so it was up to the two of them to analyse Lena.

Mercy sighed. “Winston, I know this is hard for you, but we need to focus. I just finished with the x-rays. We can check those once you get the scanners set up.”

“O-oh. Okay. Y-yes, hang on,” he shook his head and grabbed the various machines, rustling around on the ground as he snapped some parts into place. “We used this back when we were first looking into Lena’s condition. It’s a bit slow, though. So, it’ll take a moment to get a read on her chronal signature.”

Angela nodded. “Okay, get that running, then.” Mercy watched Winston as he fumbled with the device he had set on one of the counters. There was something resembling a camera that he pointed towards Lena as the device began to hum. Every now and again during setup, Winston would sneak a glance at Lena, and each one broke Angela’s heart. It was like Winston was hoping he’d suddenly look over to see the same, peppy Tracer they had always known. She didn’t have the heart to tell him that it’d never be the same even after they got the Sympathiser out.

The two of them waited a few moments as Winston plugged the scanner into his HoloVid. A few moments later, Winston hummed and began checking the data as the device searched for “energy irregularities.” He groaned.

“It looks like everything is normal, for Lena, at least. The device is sensing Hana, the accelerator, and Lena. When it maps them out, every part of Lena is considered an “irregularity,” meaning the Sympathiser is destabilised to remain with her even if she were to fade.”

Angela sighed. “I suppose that makes sense. Didn’t you see her destabilise when she first attacked the base?”

“I try to forget,” Winston admitted, half chuckling and half cringing as he failed to make levity of the moment. “But yeah, I guess she did. And even then, if it weren’t destabilised like normal, we would have been able to see it through her head when she was unstable. What about the x-rays?”

Mercy cringed. “That’s definitely where the problem lies. The Sympathiser, or at least what I assume is the sympathiser, is indeed in her head. The problem is that the cavity in which it was inserted is so impossibly precise, that it is quite literally impossible to operate there without major risk. It’s surrounded by so many delicate nerves and brain structures. And there was no sign of an incision anywhere in Lena’s head. If I were to guess, I’d say they destabilised Lena, and used her semi-invulnerability in that state to bend the rules and create the incision with destabilised tools, although I can’t be certain on the details there. After that, they must have inserted the Sympathiser in the hole that’s the perfect size for it. If we were to just remove the sympathiser, she’d probably start bleeding. Which is never a good thing to do inside the head.”

“So how would we go about removing it?” Winston asked with a growing sense of trepidation.

“As much as I hate to admit it, I don’t think we can do it while Lena is under. We’d need to try to get our hands on technology similar to what Talon used. Then we would have to have Lena destabilised while we perform the operation.”

“But… she can’t be unconscious while destabilised.” Winston’s eyes widened. “That means she would have to consent to the surgery, and allow us to remove it, since any slight motion could be catastrophic!”

Mercy nodded grimly. “Keep in mind, when Sombra is awake, I plan to get as many details as possible. Best case scenario, she can turn off the Sympathiser, and we can eventually convince Lena to let us remove it for good. But worse-case…” she gave a melancholy sigh as she put her face over her hands. “We’d have to fight an impossible battle.”

“You mean… we’d have to convince _Slipstream_ to let us remove the Sympathiser,” Winston realised as he sank to the ground. “But… how would we even do that? Lena is practically being mind-controlled!”

“I… I don’t know. But right now, those are the only two options. If Sombra doesn’t cooperate… Then we’re going to have to try to convince a perfectly content, brainwashed, and apathetic assassin to intentionally undergo the emotional pain she experienced back in MEKA.”

Winston stared at Angela in disbelief as she shook her head and returned her attention to her screens as though they would have an answer. “Slipstream is not stupid. She can remember things, and I’m certain she’ll remember how she felt back in MEKA. And I know, that if I were in her position, I would most certainly prefer not needing to have a conscience. And without the capacity to care about you, Jesse, Genji, or anyone else, she would feel as though she has nothing to gain from coming home to us.”

“But… it’s Lena! She’s not like that! She wouldn’t just choose the easy way out like that!” Winston argued, standing back up as he hurried to the side of his sleeping friend’s bed. “She would choose what’s right, even if it’s harder!” Angela’s eyes crumpled as she watched Winston put his giant paw on Lena’s hand. “She’ll choose what’s right, even if Sombra doesn’t cooperate!”

“Winston…” Mercy began. She hated dashing his hoped like this, but it felt cruel to let him build up false hope. “While… While it’s not impossible… you need to be prepared for if Lena doesn’t act like that. She’s gone through such an ordeal already. We don’t even have any way to know how it might have changed how she sees the world.” Mercy gingerly took Lena’s scarf off her neck, on which it had been draped. “You saw for yourself. And you know that these scars affect more than her body. I’d imagine they run deep in her heart and mind as well. The odds of her wanting to come back to us…”

Winston visibly flinched as he saw the scar. He stammered for words. “I… I know that! I know that! But it’s Lena! I don’t care what the ‘odds’ are, though! It’s Lena! It’s Lena. We’ve known her for years! You can’t just give up on her because of ‘odds!’ If we based all our actions off of ‘odds,’ then she’d still be wasting away in the time stream!”

Mercy sighed, looking at the ground. “Winston. I know what you’re saying. And I agree with you. But you should be prepared for the worst. For if she doesn’t want to come back to us.”

Winston gazed sorrowfully at Lena’s face for a long second. Then he slowly moved his gaze up to Dr Ziegler. He removed his glasses, staring intently at her through tearful yet resolute eyes.

“Even if Sombra doesn’t help us. Even if Slipstream doesn’t want it. Even if all the odds are against it, I’m not going to ever give up. We will not give up. We’ll find some way to help Lena remember who she actually is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is something new I'm trying. If you guys read this almost 200k word fic, (christ that's a large number...) then you probably like Overwatch fanfictions that are of semi-decent quality. But unfortunately, it's very hard to find those diamonds in the rough. So in an attempt to help out a bit, I've put together a small list of my favorite Overwatch fanfictions in case you guys are looking for more, complete with notes on why I like each of them. So, if you're looking for something good to read while you wait for me to get off my arse and write, here you go!  
> ...
> 
> thanks dad, love hana - By Snowsheba on AO3.   
> A long, heartwarming read, though Tracer isn't the focus. As of writing this, it is currently unfinished but I still firmly believe it is worth the read. It focuses on a father-daughter relationship that builds between D.va and Soldier 76. Also gave me a lot of inspiration for my own story.  
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/7328341/chapters/16645888 
> 
> 6 A.M. - By Windowtoad on AO3.  
> Another fairly long read. It is a Widowtracer AU written in second person, but if you can get past that, it is one of the most beautifully written and poignant stories I've read in a long time with a great sense of how to use literary devices like repetition to rip your heart in two. A story in which Tracer becomes immortal thanks to the Slipstream accident. I haven't been so touched and affected by a story since.  
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/10213337/chapters/22666397 
> 
> Overwatch: Out of Time - by monthefratellis on FFN.  
> One of the few good Overwatch fics that I've read on FFN. Its a bit on the shorter side, but a decent read all the same. It focuses on McCree and Tracer as they're stranded on Route 66, though it is not a romance story in any way. Overall a short but solid read exploring McCree's past.  
> https://www.fanfiction.net/s/11948145/1/Overwatch-Out-of-Time 
> 
> the young never sleep - By cerealmilk on AO3.  
> A bit on the angsty side, maybe a little bit too much so at some points, but I ultimately had a very good time reading this D.va fic. It's an interesting take on D.va's character, being focused more on how fighting in a war has affected her psychologically.  
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/8138758/chapters/18655057 
> 
> One last wish - by NohaIjiachi on AO3.  
> Now we're getting to the weirder ones. In this AU, Hanzo is half human and half dragon. Genji and McCree have an amazingly well-written platonic relationship here as they try to save Genji's brother from enemies and himself. I'd say this fic is worth reading for the Genji and McCree banter alone.  
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/7982275/chapters/18263581 
> 
> To Breathe Above Water - by Emiza on AO3.  
> So, this is a Genji X Mercy mermaid AU. While the concept is pretty out there, the writer demonstrates enough skill with a keyboard to make it work fairly well. This one is also pretty short, but it's a decent way to spend an afternoon.  
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/9234392


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